


A Raven's Tale

by AJ_Wright



Series: The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles [4]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft (Manga), Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics), World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Adventure, Agonising Tranformation, F/M, Grief, Humour, Magic, Night Elf, Ogres, Passion, Romance, Shapeshifting, Trolls, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 69,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Wright/pseuds/AJ_Wright
Summary: Arriving in Stormwind after a tumultuous few days, a solitary raven hears of the funeral scheduled to take place for the Leader of the Kirin Tor, Archmage Khadgar. Azeroth needs to know, however, Khadgar's not dead!He's merely trapped - in his raven form.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at first person POV. Apologies if I get it wrong, I just hope I have managed to get it mostly right for your reading pleasure. This is still a work in progress although nearing completion.
> 
> The soundtrack is available to hear on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/ahkentit/playlist/0BSmbo7f8hNUQj0RcdH5CJ?si=lEm06y7UQOS-qbcsO5GUnw
> 
> This has been rated Mature although in honesty only one chapter deserves that rating, otherwise, it is more for young adult upwards.

 

**_Music: THE FINAL HOUR by Audiomachine_ **

I was snared, captured, drawn to the window of a house overlooking Stormwind harbour. For all my left wing's injury from an arrow shaft had opened anew, I fought against the pull of whatever was luring me towards this building. The pain, however, was excruciating and starting to take its toll.

There was no way I could maintain this furious effort any longer. Although I knew I would drop like a stone as soon as I stopped using my wings, I was too exhausted to care. Resigned to the fact I was either going to receive more injuries or at worst, die, I gave in to the lure of blissful oblivion.

To my utter amazement, I did not fall. My wings remained spread, they neither flapped nor folded, and yet my body moved relentlessly towards the window.

Realisation dawned - I was riding on a wave of magic. As I neared the opening, I saw azure light pulsing, growing steadily brighter. I could hear it too; the unmistakable thrum and throb of an ancient, powerful magic- its sound almost tangible. It reached out from the building, beckoning me to partake of its power, to bathe in its ineluctable charm.

I neared the open window. In that instant, my memory cleared somewhat and I recognised my study! It was from here the magic stemmed and its caster was an enormous purple-skinned humanoid; a night elf. By all accounts an extremely powerful one too, whom I did not recognise.

What little energy I had left was waning yet I tried once more to pull away, to take back control. My experience had drained me however and I was left scuffling on the balcony, all to no avail.

As my body crossed the entrance to the room, the elf looked up. His eyes were amber, full of fire and fierce determination. He stood in front of a circle of runic symbols. They spun on the floor like a spinning top, pulsing, rising and falling with each chant I heard him utter.

My heart started to pound again; exhaustion gave way to fear once more. In a last desperate effort, I tried to break free of what dragged me towards the amber-eyed man, but it was pointless. He had me in the grip of a summoning spell.

I was suddenly and brutally slammed on the ground within the revolving symbols. Also drawn within that circle was my spiritual raven. Once more I was whole.

In the background, I thought I heard a woman scream but dismissed it as the pain in my left wing overtook everything else I sensed. But it was nothing compared to what I had yet to endure.

My entire body began to elongate, expand. I could hear and feel my bones breaking. Torturously, they knitted back together before breaking yet again as my body continued to distort and grow. The excruciating torment repeated itself over and over.

I cried out for the agony to stop but the amber-eyed male continued chanting over the thrum of magic, his harangue intensifying with every magical utterance. Somehow, I recognised the words. I  _knew_  the incantation.

The brief surprise gave way to another agonised screech as I felt my skin rip and peel off my muscle and bones. The avian contours and rectrices were absorbed into my torn flesh and replenished by new growth of both skin and feather which altered yet again to -  _cloth_! My body felt like it was being turned inside out.

If this did not stop, I was going to die for sure.

   


	2. Escape

**_Music: BEING ALIVE | by Audiomachine_ **

 

Where am I?

What is this place?

Why is there so much  _noise_?

These were questions running through my befuddled brain as I registered the desperate situation in which I found myself. I could not recall how I came to be where I was. All I knew at that precise moment, was that it was dark, dusty, cold and foreboding. My eyes had not yet adjusted to the inky blackness - but my hearing alerted me to danger.

Strange sounds, both familiar and at the same time utterly alien, boomed, echoed, receded and swept all around me. I shifted nervously, my head snapping round at each new location I heard a noise. In one way I felt an uneasy reassurance. Whatever was making those diabolical sounds was separated from me by my somewhat unnatural enclosure. That small confidence was erased within moments.

An unsettling sensation filled the air. It emitted a prickling, unnerving and menacing ambience. At least, that is how I ascribed it being in my provisional dark and cold space. Miniscule rays of bright light filtered through the cracks of my enclosure. They bounced off the surface of what, by all accounts, looked like cracked stone or hardened clay, and danced on the floor near my feet. I hopped to get out of their way. They followed me. I jumped back again. My rectrices bunched as my body pressed up against one of the solid surfaces behind me. In panic, I spread my wings and tried to alight on a ledge at the opposite side, but space above was restrictive and merely resulted in my crown colliding with yet more hardened matter. I crashed back down, my wings splayed over the floor and my beak digging a groove in the soft earth.

Now I could taste fear, dread. Not mine to begin with, but my own soon added to the tang. My heart was hammering, and the after shafts of my coverts started to prickle, making my feathers feel like they had static rippling through them.

Stones shifted directly above me causing a thin stream of powdered rock to spill over my back, sifting through my contours. I shook my body to rid me of the dusty substance, my feathers rapidly opening and closing from the vigorous movements.

A sharp wailing noise burst forth. I immediately shrank down, my chest brushing over the dust I had just shaken from my back. The noise hurt my ears. I shook my head, trying hard to rid the sound. I envisioned it penetrating my skull, skewering my brain. Such was its tenor. Other sounds joined it, these ones deeper, unambiguous and emphatic. The screeching one grew more frantic, the volume piercing my mind in... _desperation_.

Adjusted now to the gloom, my eyes could make out sharp stone edges, enormous boulders, metal and...something alive! That something was moving. Light flared mercilessly around me as a stone slab was moved, opening the way ahead. I shifted, craning my neck for a better view thinking I could get free at last. But then I saw there were still things obstructing my way. Metal spars, rocks, slabs. I had but a thin crevice to try and wriggle through. I knew it was impossible. There was no way out for me from this... tomb. I felt hopelessness as I watched the only available exit shrink from my view. My situation was dire. Final.

The live thing twitched and dug deep grooves in the ground. The unexpected movement made me flinch, my wings instinctively opening for flight. I ducked my head down, almost level with the ground and turned my head to the side so I could see through the sliver between the rocks. At this point, I realised it was a human appendage I was seeing, though quite how I deduced this was a mystery. It was reaching for something which was just outside my vision's periphery. It lurched forward. With a grunt, it clasped whatever it was it sought. Slowly, it started to pull back.

I pressed my eye closer to the erratic openings that afforded me the only view to the outside. The object it had coveted was nothing more than a long piece of carved wood. As it was steadily drawn into my view I noted a rather hideous carving of a bird at its tip - a raven perhaps and attached, it had a strip of -  _fabric_?  _How_  did I know that? This  _fabric_ , although dusty was adorned with two feathers and some spherical objects clustered near the bird's feet. Near the loose end of the material, other objects dangled, like claws and more spheres. The human appendage continued moving away until I saw it in its entirety. I could just make out the human scrambling to its feet, the wooden object with the carved bird in its hand. Then it disappeared from my view completely. The wailing pitch above me suddenly changed, there was a hint of relief. "Roo, roo," it sounded. That too then moved away.

A moment later another resumed. Its desperate, sorrowful bleeting. "Caagaw! Caagaw!" was sending shivers down my spine. There was agony in that sound, a pain so profound, it reached out to me. It was strangely familiar; personal, yet how that was remotely possible, escaped me. It presented an enigma I could not even begin to diagnosticate while my fear was still rising. What manner of thing was it that produced such doleful sounds? Another human perhaps?

Earth-shattering noise rained down. Stone and metal jarred around me, scraping as if giant talons were dragging down a sheer slate surface, screeching, shifting, sliding. The sound was excruciating, tearing so viciously at my mind that I felt as if my skull was splitting open, exposing the soft flesh within. My beak chittered loudly as if from the cold. My body was being rendered limp by the intolerable noise and building pressure within my confinement. I had to get out of here - wherever here was. I knew it was all going to collapse, crash around me. On me.

A deeper, more throaty sound arrived. It seemed to communicate somehow with the wailing one. Was it protesting something? The unstable surroundings must have been a warning for my brain registered the screams and bellows of the creatures outside my prison retreating. I could just make out the one calling "Caagaw" repeatedly, fading into the distance.

The grinding, scraping around me intensified. I turned my head trying to locate an exit, drawn hopelessly to the light where the human had escaped. I could not squeeze through, could not reach it. Then, as the very ground beneath me shuddered and heaved, an opening appeared directly above me. In that same instant, I saw another object, a pillar, falling, coming towards me. My mind played it in slow motion but I knew the reality. It was hurtling down through the air towards me with frightening velocity. I had to move.  _Now_.

As I propelled myself up, the collapsing stone just clipped me and no more, knocking me sideways, but I regained my direction and within seconds, I was soaring. Free at last from my prison. Alive! I rose just in time to see the enormous dust cloud erupt from the impact of the fallen pillar. Many others like me also flew over the area. I hovered, taking in what was below me. I saw movement. Figures were running away from where I had just escaped. I circled and dove down for a closer look.

I could hear the wailing again, even more desperate than before and I searched for its source. I realised then, the majority of the figures were humanoids. Quite how I came to such a fixed conclusion eluded me again, but something in the back of my mind informed me that is what they were.

They were creatures of various appearances, colours and languages, none of which I could understand.  _Or could I_? The wailing one had made sounds I had interpreted. They made no sense to me, but I had still formed their sound in my mind. I watched the wailer. Curious. It collapsed now and seemed inconsolable, distressed beyond respite. Another humanoid knelt down beside it. This one was peculiar. Protrusions from its head like huge horns and strange green markings on its body. It also had enormous wings, quite unlike mine. Its wings were more like hide; tough, opaque. If I looked closely enough, and I  _could_ , even from high up, I could see red thread-like veins running through the membrane. Its feet were like that of beasts on the plains - hooved. It seemed to be trying to comfort the wailer. Not very successfully, by the looks of it.

As my eyes scanned the ground, I saw many humanoids, wounded, bleeding, crying. What had happened to cause such devastation and sorrow? I soared again and turned back the way I came to see if I could gauge what the catastrophe had been.

Below, I saw what I assumed was once a great stone structure. Now it lay in ruins. I could see what looked like a head carved in stone lying amid the rubble. Metal rods and spars jutted out, some mangled and twisted with bits of stone clinging to them. Many bodies of various creatures were also nearby, some half buried under the rock and metal. I still did not understand the significance, however, and once more soared back to where I had seen the wailer collapse to the ground.

The human was still crouched on the dry earth, making that awful noise. The winged humanoid had moved over to tend to others. It emitted a bright light which surrounded those nearby. As I glanced around, there were yet other humanoids doing a similar thing although their appearances were vastly different from the winged one. Some were more like the wailer, others, although tiny horns and hooves they had, were still very unlike the larger winged one. As I watched I saw that they were healing the injured!

And... I could not believe my eyes! There were even  _trees_ spouting bright light, and moving too! How was this possible? Trees were for the likes of me to roost in and the only movement they made, was that which was afforded by the wind through their branches. But these - these  _walked_! I continued to watch in utter fascination and I dare say some horror, as some of these trees then started to change shape. My secondaries kicked in, allowing me to glide at a safe distance as I witnessed this strange phenomenon. A hypnotic swirl of green and golden light rose from the roots to the canopies and then dispersed leaving behind - another humanoid. How was it possible for something to change shape? And so extremely?

Many of the humans were encircled by strange lights and markings on the ground which pulsed and spun. As I hovered, I could see that these lights were somehow mending the creatures below. Wounds were disappearing or at least lessening and some of the beings were able to get up and move around.

"Caagaw! Caagaw!"

I looked down and saw the wailer pointing at me and making those strange sounds again. Was it trying to communicate with me? Why would a human want to do that, I wondered. Others came around it. They looked up too but shook their heads. I don't know what made me do it, but I glided down a little further. The wailer became more agitated and again started making that odd sound, "Caagaw! Caagaw!"

I saw another human approach the wailer. It was the same one who had retrieved the long wooden pole with the bird carving. It grabbed the wailer and shook it, not roughly, but enough for to take its attention away from me. I could hear the noises the other one made too. "Nuh! E nuh caagaw."

The wailer stared at the humanoid in front of it and gradually calmed, or perhaps it was just exhaustion that had set in as its breathing was somewhat hitched and ragged. I dared fly a little closer. As I did, it looked directly at me. Somehow, I then knew this was a female. She looked at me for only a fleeting moment, but it seemed to last for an aeon. I saw such interminable sorrow in her eyes. A look of utter loss, despondency and bewilderment. The strangest of sensations vibrated through my chest. A most peculiar feeling, almost akin to pain but I could not comprehend it. "Caagaw," she whimpered. Then she gulped and I saw water pour from her eyes. Rivulets trickled and spread over her face to her chin then dripped to the dry earth below her crumpled form. I knew not why, but I felt terribly sad. An insane emotion filled me just then. A need to comfort her, assure her, but  _why_ I felt so compelled I did not know.

Something skiffed me, just brushing my primaries and clipping my right metacarpus. Another object shot past me. The one who had shaken the wailer was throwing things at me. It was trying to ward me off. Seemed I was not welcome amongst them. Instantly I soared then swerved away. Those missiles could have so easily rendered me flightless had they hit my scapulars.

As I climbed higher I kept an eye on the wailer and her companions. Many were back at the fallen stone pillars, digging out some of the rubble. Bodies were dragged out from under massive slabs, broken rock piles and sand. The majority of those bodies were lifeless. Whatever had happened here, was now passed, finished and only the clearing up and retrieving of companions seemed to be on the agenda. I flew out over the barren landscape leaving the injured and exhausted humans behind, letting them continue with healing and digging through the rubble to collect their dead. Yet, as I sailed south over the red, dry land towards the swamps, the cry of the wailer echoed in my mind.

"Caagaw ... Caagaw."

The image of her sad face stayed with me. Perhaps someone important to her had been one of the victims they were dragging out from the ruins. Whatever it was, I was haunted by her sorrow.

 


	3. Alarii

 

 

A few yards to my right I saw a group of structures nestled near the coast which looked decent enough to roost in. I swooped down. As I was about to land, something hit me from the left flank. It completely knocked me off balance and I bounced across the roof of one of the structures before dropping like a stone to the dry dirt below.

My wings had splayed open to dampen the impact of meeting the ground. A high pitched shriek sounded from somewhere above. I snapped my head up, cocking it so I had a better view. Just over the roof of one of the structures, I saw movement. Quickly folding my wings, I hopped out to see what it was. That was my first mistake.

The shriek sounded again and I was buffeted by a strong gust. I scuttled under the overhanging ledge of the structure I had landed next to; a human abode as far as I could tell. My timing could not have been any more precise, for something tugged violently at my tail. I omitted a series of irritated clicks and drew further into the safety of the gloom.

Tilting my head I tried to get a look at what had just attacked me.

My heart started to race as I stared into a gleaming yellow eye. Its vertical slit dilated as it tried to find me within the little sanctuary I had nestled into. The eye disappeared and a green, scaly snout replaced it. A forked tongue lashed out, tasting the air. It was a reptile, a beast with a penchant for fine dining on things with an avian flavour.

The lips curled back and I shuddered as I saw they hid many sharp, serrated teeth. Something black protruded from its mouth. I was most incensed to see it was one of my tail feathers wedged between two of those deadly razors.

The snout opened further, and another shriek filled the air. I shook my head, trying to counteract the sound. The noise was sharpened by the acoustics of my enclosure. The beast outside was becoming frustrated by its inability to reach me. I stayed stock still, I had no intention of becoming dinner for a lizard.

My ears were assaulted by another sound, this one had a dull, heavy resonance like some weighty object had torn through the air just above my hiding place. The green beast screeched; fear in its cry. Dust swept into my hiding place, stirred from the fracas of the creature's wings beating wildly.

A roar of rage rang overhead, but it was not from the reptile. Something else had arrived. Something even bigger going by the deep, ferocious growling and grunting. A dull thwack vibrated just above me. More dust, this time from above as the thwacking continued to rain down on the surface above my head. I was rapidly getting covered in dry dirt and splinters from the wood.

Another reptilian screech, its claws raking the ledge. It gurgled. Then - silence.

After a few moments, I could hear something being dragged across the wooden boards to my left, then I saw the green scaly body land, unceremoniously, in a crumpled heap. More dust and dry dirt billowed from the corpse's final resting place. "Hawt uz e afa?" I heard a thick voice say.

"Dun na, bu e un'eh heea," a softer voice replied.

I shrank back as a face appeared where the reptile had searched for me a few moments before. A human face as far as I could tell. "Ah!" it said glancing back over its shoulder. "E's a raven."

I hopped, once, rather pleased with myself. I understood that! A raven. The human was talking about me. I soon shirked back however as a hand reached in and made a grab for me. I jabbed at the flesh. The owner squealed and withdrew their hand quickly.

"Lv e be! Et'll eitha fly off o dy," the thick voice barked.

The face appeared again. Female I gathered going by the vocal tone and softness of its features. "Nuh, e mah be urt." The hand threw something at me. Again I hopped back and eyed both the face and the item that had been thrown towards me. It was yellowish, porous with a darker edging. Food, perhaps?

I stretched my neck so I could reach it. With one eye on the hovering human, I dibbed and pecked at the yellow food. Eventually, I managed to rip a small piece of it. It was very pleasant. Very...familiar too. I grabbed at the food again and shaking my head rapidly, I tore another piece of deliciousness off.

I hadn't realised I was hungry until this offering was made. I was enjoying it so much that I foolishly let my guard down. Before I knew it two hands reached in and grabbed me. I struggled against them, flapping my wings wildly, digging my beak into her flesh and screeching loudly. She yelled but did not let go and I was pulled out from my sanctuary.

The brightness of the day momentarily blinded and disorientated me. That moment gave my captor the advantage and her hands closed around my wings. Still, I screeched and tried to gouge her, but she deftly avoided my beak this time. I had obviously injured her at some point, however, as I saw a dark liquid; blood trickling down over her hand.

My head swivelled as she carried me into the hut under which I had been hiding. All the while she kept making a strange sound - "Hsh, hsh,"- and tentatively rubbed her finger over my crown.

Dutifully, I kept turning my head trying to jab the finger but she was growing wise to me. She reached out to a suspended object made of thin metal strips woven into a container of some sort. She plucked open a small door and to my horror, she placed me far enough inside, that when she withdrew her hand I could not escape before she closed and secured the door. I started flapping and screeching in protest but she continued to "hsh" and drew a finger to her lips.

Another human approached the doorway. This one was big, strong, with hair on its face. "Waw ye goh a do wif it?" The hair on the face split. The voice was the one from before, much deeper than that of my captor so I assumed, therefore, taking its appearance into consideration also, that this was the male of the species. I stilled as I glanced back at the female. Her face had developed an odd glow, a little pink compared to a few moments before. Her eyes looked brighter too. Her tongue slid across her lips before she answered the male.

"I wanta mek shur e is nuh hurt." Her voice had raised a notch with a slight tremor. She seemed to have difficulty keeping eye contact with him. I wondered if this big male frightened her somehow.

As he closed the distance between them, I soon realised it was something entirely different which made her react so in his presence. Her skin flushed more and a tiny smile played on her lips.

When he reached her side he grabbed her hand which I had injured during the struggle under the hut. His brow knotted. After glaring in my direction, his voice lowered. "Ge this cleaned!" Then he shook his head, but a smirk played on his mouth. "Yoo shudha choz career as stabl'hnd inste ov solda." His eyes lingered a moment on hers, then abruptly he released her hand. He laughed as he knocked the enclosure I was in, causing me to screech and flap again. "Alarii, clean yur hand 'for it getz infected."

The female nodded and uttered some noise I could not even try to formulate. I watched her eyes follow his retreating back as he turned and left the hut. She omitted a huge sigh and started quietly mumbling something while she moved over to a basin of water and carefully washed her hand.

This gave me a moment or two to come to terms with the fact I was able to form most the sounds these humanoids made. It was as if there was some hidden store in my head which was opened a little further with each exchange I bore witness to. I did not fully understand them of course, but I did get the general gist.

My attention was once again drawn to the female whose voice had softened slightly. It seemed by all accounts that she was actually talking to me. As she moved back over to my prison, I took note of her appearance. It was then I noticed she was very different from the male indeed.

Her eyes, although I could make out pale irises, were mainly glowing silver. They were beautifully shaped, tapering at the far edges and enhanced by long lashes. Her face was petite but utterly striking. I found myself being somewhat enraptured, there was a mysticism about her. My eyes flitted to her mouth as she spoke, and I caught sight of small fangs. Not threatening like that of the green serpent which had attacked me, but fangs nonetheless. Her ears were long and tapered, poking out from silken brown hair which she wore loose, draped over her shoulders. Somewhere, from deep within my cerebrum, the recognition of her being a night elf seeped through my analytical thought-processing.

I shifted on the gritty floor of my newfound pen and tried to focus on what she was saying. I saw her smile at me, quite why I do not know, but her voice was without a doubt, most soothing. I shuffled back a little as she brought her hand back up to the door on the metal enclosure.

My rectrices bunched and then pushed through the thin spars behind me as I backed up. Her voice softened more. She pushed through some more of the yellow food. I stared at it, remembering what happened last time I was seduced by its wonderful flavour. Her soft laughter made me look back up at her. "Eet," the sound tumbled from her lips. "I won hurt oo."

I did not quite understand the meaning of her sounds but her tone told me all I needed to know. I stretched forward, still a bit wary, but soon managed to grab and swallow another tasty morsel. She put some more through. Again, I ate. She repeated this a few more times, each offering readily scoffed.

All the while, her voice was soft, soothing and I found that some of the sounds were becoming easier to register. Perhaps it was the lenitive quality of her voice. I thought to myself that such a delicate timbre should not be found in a place such as this.

I turned my attention to her attire. That also seemed out of place with the hypnotic tones that issued from her; tough grainy leather and a rough looking fabric. An image came to mind of her wearing soft flowing robes, perhaps paying homage to some deity in beautiful, peaceful surroundings. Such grace surely did not belong in a harsh, unforgiving place like these swamps with their suffocating heat, humidity and, in some places, utter filth.

**_Music: LADY OF THE MOON by 2002_**  

I paused eating for a moment and pondered over what had passed through my brain. These thoughts were not mere speculation somehow. They were based on knowledge, experience. From where and when, however, still eluded me. Was it perhaps simply the influence of this female elf's gentility which had given way to such introspection? That too was a possibility. Yet, I felt there was something more, something which was still veiled, shielded from me so-to-speak.

I shook myself, ruffling my feathers. This contraption she had put me in was much too small. Trying to preen in such a confined space was awkward. My primaries and secondaries separated as they pressed out between the spars of my metal prison. It was uncomfortable, so I shifted to the side, hoping to create more space for me to open my wing. A marginal improvement resulted.

A soft click behind me made me snap my head round and skitter forward. The elf had opened the door. My eyes regarded hers cautiously. Hers grew brighter as she smiled. Her voice, still like a soft lullaby, calmed me once more. Slowly she brought her hand back up, a few of the golden food crumbs in her palm. I looked back at her face. Her tapered eyebrows lifted gently. "Forgive me," her voice sounded. "Come to me."

I stumbled slightly. Those small sounds were known to me. They were poignant but I did not quite know why. All I knew was that my chest ached when they tumbled from her mouth. Glancing at her silvery orbs again, I knew there was no mordant intent aimed at me from this individual. I realised she only wanted to help. Her hand came further into the contraption, still offering the food. Deciding to trust her, I hopped onto her hand. Her smile broadened. Gently she pulled back and I was finally out of that metal prison.

Her voice continued to comfort me and had become extraordinarily melodic. Sweet notes and cadences flowed from her lips. I tilted my head, listening to those sounds. They were beautiful. She was singing.

Her other hand came up beside me, and gently she stroked my chest. It was a rather pleasant sensation. Next, her fingers eased my wing open and she inspected it closely, before slowly returning it to its rested position and proceeding to my other wing.

She seemed satisfied that no permanent damage had been afforded me from the attack of the green drake. She lowered her hand to the table and encouraged me to jump down. I did. She scattered a few more crumbs for me, then rose and crossed to the other side of the room. I watched her closely as I made short work of the food.

I was surprised to see her putting on some metal attire, not unlike that which the male had worn. She dutifully strapped a chest piece in place and fastened more metallic pieces to her shoulders and wrists. I stopped eating when I recognised another item she fastened to herself; a scabbard with its sword. This graceful female was a warrior? A fighter?

I jumped slightly as the male's voice came in through the open doorway. He seemed to be shouting orders in the courtyard.

The female's head snapped up. She smiled and strode over to the table, her newly adorned armour (another little piece of hidden knowledge slotted into place) clinked and clanked a little from her movements. She leaned down close to me. "Stay if you wish. I must go. The others have returned and I believe we have all been saved."

I blinked. Every sound was clear, precise. Furthermore, I understood them! I knew not whether she had unlocked some memories in me with her enchanted singing or not, but I now knew what her sounds meant.

My heart skipped a beat as I also began to recognise more objects and understand what they were. Quite why I was not sure, but I was overcome with gratitude to this night elf and I would not let her kindness go unrewarded. Somehow, I would repay her.

As she moved to the door, I called out. She turned to look at me. I spread my wings and flew over to her, landing on her shoulder, momentarily flapping until my claws found grip on her pauldrons. She reached up and stroked my chest again. "Alright, raven," she said. "Welcome to Marshtide Watch. I am Alarii. You may stay as long as you wish, but try to keep out of harm's way." We then left the hut to greet the soldiers returning to the Watch.

 

 

 


	4. You Black Devil!

 

I remained on Alarii's shoulder as the battle-weary troops trudged through the gates. Glancing west I could see a swirling mass, like a whirlpool of colour; a distortion in the air, through which these individuals had emerged. A portal I deduced, from the font of bizarre information in my brain.

There were a hundred different emotions written on those faces. As I listened to the warbled salutations, the varying words of comfort and some of the heartfelt sorrow, I soon realised that the place I had escaped earlier was the very site these soldiers were returning from - this  _Dark Portal_ they spoke of. There was something strangely familiar yet annoyingly obscure about it within my hazy bank of knowledge.

Some of the soldiers were incoherent in their mumblings, clearly exhausted and still in shock by whatever catastrophe they had aided in preventing. Others helped colleagues into the compound, shouldering their weight or carrying them in on stretchers. Their wounds, although going by appearances, most had been treated to some degree, were still requiring urgent attention.

Watching them, I recalled all the people at the portal I had seen as I had soared over them earlier that day. I remembered the individuals who cast their spells and gifts of healing spreading over the hundreds of injured bodies around the broken portal; the walking trees; those with totems, others still who knelt with bandages to wrap the wounds. Nor did I forget the blue horned creatures and the large purple cloven-hoofed one.

My mind also visualised the female with wet eyes who cried out for someone most likely dear to her. The sensation of my heart contracting hit once more, pulling me from my reverie. I shuffled my feathers as I remained poised on Alarii's pauldron. I was awarded a few strange looks from the soldiers as they passed by, but generally, I was of no interest to them.

From the way they saluted Alarii, it dawned on me that she was not just an ordinary soldier. If I was not mistaken she was perhaps a lieutenant. I glanced across the courtyard and saw the hairy-faced man. He was looking over in our direction, silently watching as Alarri steered the troops into the compound and told them where to go according to the extent of their injuries. There was a certain look in his eyes. A look which I felt I knew - a look strangely familiar to me.

I turned my head towards Alarii and tapped my beak on her pauldron. When she paid no heed, I tapped again, and again until she looked at me. Once she did, I jerked my head and squawked in the direction of the hairy-faced man, then looked back at her, tilting my head as if curious - which, of course, I was. Her eyes followed my gesture to the subject of interest.

Instantly, she dropped her gaze and a small smile played on her lips. She swallowed and looked up at me again. "That is Commander Jevon Barrie," she said quietly. "He and I were first to arrive back here after the portal collapsed. We have been readying the place for our troops to return. He is a very brave man and a good and fair leader. He is also a skilled tactician. Some have even likened him to General Turalyon." She turned her attention back to the arriving soldiers.

I looked back at Commander Barrie. He nodded very briefly, as if silently pleased with how Alarii was dealing with the incoming troops. He then turned and spoke to other soldiers close by, who quickly moved to carry out his orders.

The General Alarii had mentioned, Turalyon - another distant tug; a stubborn memory stored within my mind. Try as I might I could not unveil it. It seemed my mind was being particularly selective in its recall and certain snippets remained behind locked doors - for now. I would remember in time, of this I was certain. Well, I  _hoped_  I would, being more truthful. It was enough to know, simply going by the tone of reverence in Alarii's voice, this General Turalyon was indeed a man of honour and integrity.

A group of five soldiers passed close by and were directed to the left. The entire group were covered in dirt and dust, with dried blood smudges on exposed skin. Two helped a wounded comrade whose leg seemed to have been badly injured. His arms around their shoulders, they carried him over to a cot which had been hurriedly assembled. They laid him down and the other two, both female, started to work on his leg by removing the battered armour and torn britches. I watched, curious as they all rallied together to help their friend. "Stay still, Elias!" One of the women said.

"I'm tryin'!" The injured man hissed back. "You're not exactly gentle though, Carine." He let out an unearthly roar as she ripped his britches higher up his thigh. I could see an enormous gash on the outside of his leg and from it protruded a jagged metal spike. The two male colleagues kneeled and pinned Elias' shoulders and arms down, while the second female held his injured leg steady.

"Now Elias," Carine said. "This is going to hurt, but the healer is on his way. He's just at the next cot okay?"

The injured warrior stared hotly at the woman. "Just get on with it, wench!" He said with a half-hearted smile on his lips. Without hesitation, the woman grabbed the metal spike and started to pull it out. The others' grips tightened as Elias roared again. This time it sounded quite unlike that of any man. I watched in horror as his body started to sprout hair, the area of his injury being one of the first places to be covered. I flinched as his face distorted hideously and his jaw pushed forward, elongating and snarling with massive canines suddenly sliding down and up from his gums. His hands contorted and enormous deadly looking claws ripped through the flesh of what had been his fingertips.

I omitted a startled caw and flinched again as I felt Alarii's fingers stroking my chest. "Do not fret, raven," she said. "He is a worgen. His transformation actually lessens his pain and helps with the shard being removed. But, look - " she pointed to the cot next to Elias. A man in silvery white robes turned towards the worgen. Holding a long chain on which a talisman of sorts hung, he started waving his hands above the injured soldier. "The priest will also aid him, easing his pain and cleansing the wound. He will be fine, I assure you."

More wonders were displayed before my eyes as I watched the priest do his work. He mumbled some incantation while a golden effervescent substance swept out from his fingers and over the worgen. Elias started to calm and his form gradually reverted back to that of a human. His friends eased up on their hold of him as his body relaxed. Carine waited until the priest had finished his work and moved on to the next injured person. Quickly after she started bandaging Elias' wound. Once it was bound I saw her lean down and press her lips against his. I cocked my head at this. A warm feeling washed over me, followed by a touch of melancholy.

Alarii's soft voice managed to startle me slightly. "Even amidst war, some find love," she said, wistfully. I turned to look at her. Her eyes seemed moist and they were staring beyond me, beyond Elias and his friends. I followed her gaze. Commander Barrie was still issuing orders and working with others as the soldiers found places to rest and wait for injuries to be tended or simply receive sustenance after their arduous battle for survival. I understood then. Alarii didn't just admire the commander for his military presence, she had strong feelings for him. So why did she not act on them as Carine did with Elias, I wondered. I heard her sigh quietly and once more she focused on the gates and the last of the soldiers as they arrived.

It had been commendable how everyone had rallied and helped each other regardless of rank or race. I observed the respect afforded by the Commander and his officers to those of lesser standing and on listening to some of the chatter as we moved among the injured and helpers alike, the scale of the catastrophe at the portal became a little clearer to me.

These individuals had followed other leaders through the construct in order to fight against a formidable enemy who potentially had the power to wipe out the entire planet. As it had turned out, their military skills were redundant against such a foe and they had ended up fleeing for their lives under the protective shields of individuals called mages, priests and warlocks. But even those of the magic persuasion had not been enough to thwart the enemy.

They spoke of spirits, ghosts, phantoms which had descended from the skies and crippled the dark lords of shadow with the power of the one true saviour - the  _Light_. Enormous celestial beings had also intervened and they sent the Void, as they called this enemy, back to shadows; to the Great Dark Beyond. These places and beings they spoke of tugged at something in my brain, but whether it was a memory, or just visualising the soldiers' descriptive take on the battle I did not know. Regardless, it was harrowing to listen to.

I had tried to stay with Alarii most of the day, but I had to roost on the buildings now and again so she could carry out helping others with medical care and provide food and water for the people. For all the heat in the swamp was severe, unforgiving, she never once complained nor took time to see to her own needs. She was utterly dedicated to helping those who had suffered at the portal. Her calm persona and gentle voice, traits not particularly expected of a soldier, had a very soothing and positive effect on those around her. Gratitude with deep sincerity was awarded her to which she humbly bowed before moving to the next individual in need.

I observed the Commander too. He was equally diligent in seeing to the troops and that included Alarri. At one point I saw him go to her with a canteen and offer her water. She smiled and at first declined, but he insisted and she had to stop tending the sick long enough to accept his offer of refreshment. He ordered her to get some food too and saw to it one of her colleagues took her to the officers' mess and stayed with her until she ate. Curious, I followed. As she entered the mess I flew in over her head. Her companion shouted in protest, but Alarii said it was alright, that I was to stay close to her until she determined that I was completely well again.

Her friend told Alarii to sit while she went up to the cook and collected two plates of steaming food and some chunky bread, then brought them to a table near the door. "It looks perfectly fine to me," her fair-haired comrade said huffily, jerking her head in my direction.

Alarii smiled and nodded her thanks for the food. "He's a bit edgy. He was attacked this morning by a green drake."

"Well, he still seems fine. Something kind of creepy about him if you ask me."

Alarii laughed softly. "Dana, even a moth is creepy to you. I don't know how you've managed to remain stationed in the Watch without losing your mind with all the creatures out here."

The blonde woman smirked and stabbed at her food. She laughed a little. "To be honest Alarii, neither do I." The two women laughed again. It was a pleasant sound. I continued watching them intently from a rafter above. "He just better not shit in my stew," the blonde said, her face suddenly serious.

I was most incensed that this Dana thought I would do such a revolting thing, nevertheless, I sidled along the rafter so I was not directly above their plates; just in case I was caught unawares.

"Bloody hell! Think he understood that?" the blonde gaped.

"Quite possibly, they are intelligent birds, ravens," Alarii replied, breaking some bread and putting a few loose crumbs at the end of their table. She glanced up. "Come," she beckoned me. "Eat."

"Naw! Don't encourage it, Alarii," Dana protested. I hesitated as she seemed so against my dining with them.

"Have a heart, Dana. He is lovely." Again, Alarii looked up and encouraged me to fly down. I did and landed at the far end of their table. I hopped closer, grabbed a bit bread then returned to the far end. "See? He is charming."

Dana looked at me suspiciously but resumed eating her lunch, while Alarii threw some more bread my way and even a chunk of the meat from her stew. It was delicious! A few mouthfuls into her meal and Dana spoke again. "What about the other Mr Charming then?" she asked Alarii.

The night elf choked on her food and coughed a few times. Then in a low raspy voice replied, "Hush, Dana. I do not want others hearing." She cleared her throat quietly, trying not to attract attention from the cook and two other officers further across the room.

I stood, stock still at the end of the table. The deep pink colour had returned to Alarii's face and I did not think it was because of her choking.

"Oh come on, Alarii. Don't you think everyone knows you fancy him?"

Poor Alarii turned an even deeper shade. She lowered her head, her mouth hovering closely over her plate. "Please Dana, do not embarrass me," she whispered.

Dana pushed her plate aside and gently laid her hand on Alarii's. "I am not meaning to embarrass you, my friend. But, you sit, night after night sketching his face from memory in that book of yours..."

Alarii brought her head up sharply. "You know about that?"

Dana rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm your best friend Alarii, of course I know."

"I haven't shown you that though."

"You didn't have to, I see the reflection of what you draw in that mirror you have up on the shelf behind your bunk, silly." 

Alarii exhaled sharply; defeated with a rutilous expression on her delicate features. Dana patted her hand. "Don't worry I haven't told anyone about your drawings. But we can all see how you blush every time he is near."

"Oh no!" Alarii whimpered. "I cannot afford for him nor other people to know this..."

"Why?" Dana asked, sitting up straight. I had to agree with her. Why indeed?

"Because it is rumoured he is betrothed to a girl in Lakeshire."

"Martie Jainrose? Oh come on Alarii, that's rubbish. He is no more in love with her than ... well, than that bird is with anyone!" she pointed to me. I blinked. Then, quite why, I did not know, but I felt a mixture of sadness and also... something I could not even describe. I pecked at a crumb on the table but it pinged away from me and landed on the floor. Somewhat dejected, I looked back up as Alarii spoke.

"What makes you so sure?" There was a little sound of hope in her voice.

"Because she will flutter her eyelashes at any man who tends her pretty little garden. That's all Jevon did. Turned it over ready for her planting her precious begonias. She asks plenty men to 'turn her sod', I can assure you. Do you know, she had one poor sap kill a huge boar that allegedly kept eating her crops and flowers?" Alarii's eyes widened. Dana continued. "And he paid a price for it! The darned beast gored him in the side. Took the man weeks to recover. Nah," she said shaking her head. "Jevon is not interested in her, not by a long shot. Just tell him how you feel, I think you may be pleasantly surprised." Dana winked at her friend.

"Oh, I could not. I would be too embarrassed." I watched as a small smile crept on Alarii's face. There and then, I knew how to thank her for her kindness. Dana encouraged Alarii to take a few more mouthfuls then she cleared away their plates before they headed back out to continue helping the soldiers.

The sun had passed well to the west by the time most of the wounded had been seen to. Some went home and left by way of ships which were anchored at the coast. Others rode out from the Watch on a variety of mounts. A few waited for the griffon handler to secure flights for them on the giant birds which were stabled at the west of the compound. Others still, perhaps too weak to make their own way, were portalled home by the mages stationed at the Watch.

The company numbers left at the compound by early evening was a fraction of those that had entered the gates earlier in the day. The chore of cleaning up, burning soiled bandages, dismantling makeshift cots, gathering ruined armour ready for recycling kept the company busy until the first stars appeared above the shoreline.

I watched from my new vantage point on the top of the hut where Alarii had first taken me, as the exhausted soldiers all retired for the evening. Some went into the barracks, others slept under canvas shelters, the higher ranks shared a total of three huts and the Commander had his own private accommodation. Alarii called to me, but I stayed where I was. I knew there was no danger from the drakes at night, in fact as the Watch had been such a hive of activity all day, I doubted the reptiles would look near for quite a while. She smiled at me, bade me goodnight and then went indoors. I remained vigilant, keeping an eye on the Commander's hut and that which Alarii rested within.

After some time had passed, I glided down to the window of her hut. I had tried to gauge how long it would be before she extinguished the lamp. I was very quiet making sure she did not notice me. I could see her bunk and that of Dana's which ran adjacent to the base of Alarii's. Dana was sound asleep; she snored lightly. I craned my neck as I saw a flash of light from behind Alarii's bunk. The mirror. I focused on the reflection.

Just as Dana had said, the night elf busied herself sketching a small portrait of the Commander. She seemed quite the artist. There was no doubt who the man in the drawing was; the dark shaggy hair, the hairy-face, although she had made him smile and a hint of teeth was displayed under the black mass and she had caught his light coloured eyes perfectly. 

Watching her draw struck a note with me too. Not that a bird could sketch of course, but there was something very meaningful about this ritual Alarii had adopted every evening. I shuffled a little around the ledge as I saw her closing her book and storing it under her bunk. She then pulled the netting around her bed and extinguished the lamp on the small table beside it.

Again, I bade my time. I was waiting until I heard her soft breathing fall into a steady rhythm. Confident both occupants were sound asleep, I jumped down inside the hut. Carefully, I hopped across to the edge of her bunk, my talons clicking on the wooden boards. I stilled as I heard her turn. She did not wake. Those few moments gave me time for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

I lowered my head and peered under the bed-frame. After a while, I could make out the book. I hunched down so I could reach under and I chittered my beak, trying to grip the book cover. It took a bit effort, but I managed to pull it out far enough so I could then try and open it. That at least had to be easier than dragging it forward. I tried wedging my beak under the front cover, but it would not budge. I pecked and prodded it, then I realised there was a leather thong tied around to keep it closed. 

This was going to be trickier than I had thought. Halting long enough to ensure the humanoids were still sleeping, I then tried again. This time I used both beak and claw to loosen the knot. After a few attempts, it gave way. I nuzzled my beak under the cover again and this time it opened without any resistance. I was relieved to find the pages were loose for it had dawned on me just as I opened it that if they were bound I ran the risk of tearing her wonderful artwork or, more likely, just be unable to carry out my plan.

I grabbed a few of the pages in my beak and half hopped, half waddled across to the window before I flew onto the ledge. I looked across the courtyard at the Commander's hut. His lamp was lit. I risked a quick glance behind me to ensure Alarii was still asleep, then I took flight. The paper rippled and ruffled in my beak as I flew across the courtyard. It almost blinded me at one point, but I shook my head gently and the sheets straightened out. 

I landed on the top of the three steps which ascended to his door. The door was closed, but the light from inside bled out beneath it and also through the windows which were netted. For some reason I visualised the door opening and a booted foot lashing out at me. I truly hoped the man would not be so impolite. It was now or never I thought.

I pecked at the door a few times, then listened for any activity inside. Silence. I tried again, careful not to crush the sketches. This time I heard movement. I braced myself, stepping from one foot to the other, ready to fly in once that door opened and hoping I would not be brutally ejected moments later;  _or worse_. Heavy footfalls approached. Then I heard the dry creak of the door opening. Before I had time to think about it anymore, I pushed up and flew past his shoulder, into the room. "Oi!" he shouted, more from surprise I think, than annoyance.

I landed on the table at the back of the hut where a tall jug with steam coming from it sat next to a smaller metallic container. The aroma was rich, faintly familiar but I did not linger over it, for I saw him striding purposefully towards me. His black hair and swarthy skin accentuated his piercing eyes, making him look very menacing indeed. 

I could tell he was a very strong man. Bare-chested with muscular shoulders and powerful looking arms; I quivered a little as I thought how easily he could wring my neck in a second. I backed up, keeping the pages in my beak as prominent as possible.

"What are you up to? You black devil!" he snarled. "You stealing people's things now, are you?" I saw his hand coming towards me and I instantly dropped the sheets on the table, afraid if he grabbed them from my beak, he would ruin them. He came to a sudden stop. "What's this?"

His face gradually softened as he looked at the drawings I had delivered. Carefully, he picked each one up and examined it closely. I saw the hair on his face twitching. I was sure he was smiling. He looked at me, his brow knitting. "Where did you get these?" he demanded. He quickly shook his head. "As if you understand!" he scoffed to himself.

Tentatively I moved to the front of the table and hopped down to the floor. I skipped across to the door then turned to see if he would follow me. He stared at me, disbelief cutting across his features. I hopped a few more steps and turned again. Clasping all the sketches, he started to follow. Out I skipped across the courtyard, not daring to fly for some reason. I checked a few times to ensure he still pursued me.

I reached Alarii's accommodation a few feet ahead of the Commander, flew up onto the window ledge and quickly disappeared inside. The hut was shrouded in darkness but the light from the bright moon kept the courtyard lit well enough for me to see where the Commander was in relation to me. He was glancing at the paper and then at the hut. I made my way to the book and collected some more sketches then hopped to the window again. He mounted the steps and reached out to me. Gently he took the sketches from my beak. He looked at me. "Alarii?" he asked. I answered with a loud series of squawks.

 

**_Music: TELL HIM performed by Celine Dion & Barbara Streisand_ **

 

The look of panic in his eyes was almost amusing. He tried to quieten me but I squawked more. From behind, I could hear someone stirring. "Raven?" I heard Alarri. Instantly I stopped making a noise but I opened my wings and flapped a few times. "What is wrong?" Alarii rose from her bed. As her feet hit the floor, they came into contact with her open book. I heard her fumbling in the dark and then a soft light grew from the newly lit lamp beside her bed. I watched as her face registered what was on the floor. She stared at me. "What have you done, raven?" she breathed.

She stood up and swept the netting back from her bed. She came at me. I hopped down outside. The door opened and she came out, eyes flashing ready to give me a severe scolding by the looks of it. Until she saw the bare-chested hairy-faced man in front of her; holding some of her sketches. She almost toppled over the steps with fright. His arm shot out and caught her, pulling her against his chest, the action causing him to lose his grip on the drawings. We all watched as the artwork sashayed back and forth on the night air then landed softly on the dry dirt of the courtyard.

I hopped back up onto the window ledge and watched the scene play out. "Commander!" Alarii said, shocked at the encounter and pushing herself back from his closeness.

"Alarii," he replied, somewhat apologetically. He helped her to straighten and once she had regained her balance he released her. "Forgive me, I - I did not mean to startle you."

She looked down at the sketches in the dirt, then coyly raised her eyes to meet his again. "How did you get those?" she asked.

Jevon's face was momentarily caught in the grip of a bewildered expression until he saw me sitting quietly observing the two of them. The commander then laughed softly. He ran his hand over his beard, then looked back at Alarii. "That raven of yours, he is a smart bird." Jevon smiled.

The silver orbs of the night elf drifted over me. The initial flash of anger they held when she had opened the door had vanished and was replaced with a look of disquiet. "Are you telling me he - he ... brought them to you?"

Jevon nodded. "Yes. He came to my hut with some of them. Unbelievable!" The Commander shook his head, obviously still quite taken aback by the whole episode.

Alarii lowered her head, her emotions still visibly in conflict. "I'm sorry, commander," she said quietly.

The commander looked at her, confused. "Sorry? Why?"

"Sorry that he did this, that he disturbed you. Umm...and I'm sorry to have offended you." She looked as though she wanted to disappear completely. I suddenly felt very guilty for having made her feel so awkward and uncomfortable.

"Offended? Alarii, you misunderstand. I have never been so flattered in my entire life. These are amazing." He indicated the drawings, which now flitted about in the dirt. He stepped down from the walkway and collected the sketches, then came back up and handed them to her. All she could muster was a strained little sound that still screamed her painful embarrassment. Jevon took a step closer. "Alarii," he said in a most gentle tone. "I could not have hoped for a sweeter way to find out that you feel the same for me, as I do for you."

The night elf's eyes both widened and brightened. Her breathing quickened. "You  _do_?" she whispered. Her beautiful smile spread across her lips.

He nodded. "I do, yes. However..." He swept his hand through his unruly hair. "I must apologise for my erm... lack of proper attire." Finally, I saw the man's teeth as he smiled broadly. He was quite a handsome man when he wasn't all serious or scowling. Alarii managed a small giggle. "I know it is late, but would you care for a stroll along the beach?" he asked her.

"Yes. I would." She smiled, her eyes glistening like the moon.

"I will be right back then. I will just get my shirt." He downed the steps in one jump and jogged across to this hut as Alarii went inside hers to retrieve a shawl. When she emerged again she came up beside me and stroked my chest as she had done earlier that day.

"I think there is more to you than meets the eye, raven," she said softly. "May Elune bless you with all that your heart desires, and may she keep you safe." I saw the Commander returning, slipping on his shirt then combing his fingers through his hair. She turned as he reached the steps. He smiled and held out his hand which she took and he guided her down, round to the gate that opened to the beach. I flew up to the roof. There I settled for a few minutes as I watched him offer his arm for her to link with him, and they walked along the sand, heads close together as they no doubt chatted about...well, whatever couples in love chatted about.

I looked out over the ocean, hypnotised for a few moments by the dancing moonbeams upon her surface. For some inexplicable reason, the woman with wet eyes came to mind. I saw her face as clearly as I had seen Alarii's during the day. It occurred to me then, that she too, was a beautiful woman and how much more so she would be if she were smiling instead of weeping.

It was time for some sleep. Tomorrow, I would leave. Perhaps Elune would indeed lead me to my heart's desire...whatever that was.

 

 


	5. The Cat's Dinner

 

Dawn cracked an eye open and her yellow iris rose slowly over the horizon. As the night's shroud receded from the sky, the sounds of the swamp changed; its nocturnal creatures retiring for the daylight hours while the diurnal inhabitants embraced the start of the new day. That included the soldiers of Marshtide Watch.

I had spent the night under the overhang of Alarii's roof and slept, fitfully until the break of day. I had dreamed. The visions were blurry, but I think they were remnants of my time escaping the Dark Portal. Vaguely I remembered the wet-eyed woman. But there was another individual in the dream also.  A man who I did not recall actually seeing at the portal, yet his presence seemed significant. As I sat blinking at the light spreading across the floor of the Watch, the man's face continued to elude me and I resigned myself to the fact I could not place him from the day before. I ruffled my feathers. It was of no importance I decided. The soft click from the door below my perch made me look down to the raised platform.

Dana exited the hut, stretching and yawning as she did so.  She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a small leather thong. Her eyes drifted up to where I sat observing. "Oh,  _you're_ still here, I see," she flexed an eyebrow at me. "Adopted my friend have you?"

     "Now you leave raven alone," Alarii's voice came from within. In a moment, she appeared beside the blonde, fully armoured for the day ahead. In one hand she had some of that wonderful yellow food, which I now knew to be pine nut bread. I flew down and perched on her offered wrist then took the breakfast she held for me. Delicious though it was, my stomach knew it needed something more; something which I doubted very much that Alarii could provide for me.

Dana's face scrunched up as I looked at her. "I do not know why you bother with that thing," she said, her voice clearly indicating her dislike of my kind.

Alarii smiled, her eyes drifting over to the Commander's hut. "Oh he is a very special raven," she replied. "Aren't you, boy?" She stroked my chest. I flexed my wings, cawed, then continued with breakfast.

     "It is no more than vermin," Dana said.

     "Do not speak ill of him," Alarii's voice was uncharacteristically sharp and it did not go unnoticed by her blonde companion.

     "Tetchy! What's so special about it?" She looked at her friend then followed the night elf's gaze across the compound. Commander Jevon had just stepped out from his hut. He looked across to where we stood. His eyes held their usual authoritative look when he saw Dana, but they softened when he looked at Alarii.  He gave her the briefest of nods and even I could now tell his mouth smiled behind his beard.  Her coy reaction was noted by Dana, and I almost heard the coppers drop. "Oh!" she smirked. "You finally told him?"

Alarii's small fangs flashed as her smile broadened. "Not quite. Raven here helped."

     " _That_?" Dana pointed at me, a look of disbelief washed over her face.

     "He is very unique. I believe there is more to him than meets our eyes."

Dana scoffed. "Yeah well, the only other thing he could be is dead apparently. Have you heard the news? Well, rumours anyway, I don't think it has been made official yet. Some of the soldiers yesterday mentioned it."

     "Mentioned what?" Alarii asked.

Our attention was drawn suddenly to the Commander as a messenger arrived by griffon and called out Jevon's name. The Commander accepted a letter from the young woman and tore open the envelope. We watched as his hand clapped over his mouth and he shook his head, as if not quite believing something. He glanced up towards us.

     "Looks like it's official now then," Dana said.

     "What is?"

     "He's dead. Died at the portal."

 

**_Music: ACROSS THE UNIVERSE OF TIME performed by Haley Westenra_ **

I saw the Commander crossing the courtyard, his face solemn to say the least.  I decided it was time for me to take my leave. I had taken pleasure in bringing Alarii and Jevon together and selfishly perhaps, I did not want that soured by any sad news he had to relate.  I half flew, half hopped to the railing which ran around the hut's platform. I gave a guttural croak as I looked at Alarii. She seemed very much in tune with me and stepped nearer, lifting her finger to stroke my chest once more.

     "I understand, raven," she said softly. "You are quite well and I'm sure you have places to be. Go, be free and safe. And..." She leaned near me. "Thank you," she whispered.

With one final avian croak, I spread my wings and took to the skies again.  Circling the compound for a final time, I saw Jevon, Alarii and Dana watch me as I soared overhead. With a last glance at my elven saviour below, I turned to the north and made my way to the mountains.

I was more than alert this time, making sure no more drakes hit me as I crossed the swamp's canopies. All was quiet on that front. Only a variety of wild birds and a solitary condor in the distance to the north-east graced the skies. I felt the warmth of the sun on my body as she rose steadily above the horizon and once I crossed over the border to Redridge, I could feel the moisture density in my feathers give way, my plumage once more light and airy. 

The warm late spring draughts kept me buoyant over Lakeshire Highway. Boar meandered through the landscape, grazing on the fresh, succulent grass.  Amongst the trees and boulders, giant tarantula roamed, their unnerving presence keeping the soldiers stationed at the Three Corners watchtower on their toes.

Hog-like humanoids known as gnolls populated the dips and valleys in the area, their camps little more than a stretch of canvas over crisscrossed sticks, crates to serve as seating and tables and small campfires for cooking and keeping warm. I could somehow recollect that these odd creatures were notoriously aggressive, covering a vast area of the Lakeshire vicinity in Redridge Mountains right up to the pass that led to the Burning Steppes. It took very little for these tusked hoodlums to charge you and they never fought one on one, they were pack creatures. If you managed to wound one, half a dozen more would come at you. Oddly today, however, they seemed quite docile, ignoring the soldiers that marched along the winding roads at the edge of their camps, heading towards Duskwood to the west and Stormwind to the north-west. Something had changed I sensed. I also had no doubt it was due to recent events at the Dark Portal.

I swooped down towards the main town, Lakeshire, and settled upon the roof of the largest building. There I preened for a few minutes, occasionally pausing in the ritual to glance down at the people as they busied themselves in their daily chores and business dealings. 

 

 

The town was small, more of a village community really and looked out over a large lake which stretched beyond the town's boundaries towards the distant keep sitting on a crop of rocky crags to the east. It was quite picturesque with its red-roofed buildings and two wooden quays. A stone bridge crossing the expanse of lake allowed travellers access to and from the town.  At its southern side, griffons sat nesting, waiting for the next customer to purchase a flight from their handler.  All in all, Lakeshire was a quaint and clean little town.

Two children played near one of the docks, rolling little brightly coloured balls towards a bigger stationery one about a yard ahead of where they stood. The girl, in her pretty yellow dress, managed to get hers closest to the larger one and was running up and down the quay celebrating her success.  Suddenly, she clasped her hands to her neck and glanced down at the wooden dock. Next, she started crying. The boy ran over to her. I could hear her sobbing and my curiosity got the better of me – I flew down to see what the matter was, landing quietly on one of the quay supports. Cocking my head I listened to their conversation.

     "Hilary, what's the matter?" the boy asked, crouching down trying to see her face behind her hands which she now held over her tiny face.

     "It broke!" she sobbed.

     "What did? The marble?"

     "No!" she said, dropping her hands and pointing between the wooden spars. "My necklace. It fell through into the water. Oh, Shawn, I'll get a row if I go home without it. Mummy told me I was only to wear it for special occasions."

     "Oh!" Shawn replied, peering down between the wooden planks. "Well, I think I can see it, Hilary. But, I can't swim and those nasty eels are down there too. What are we gonna do?"

The girl wailed some more. Clearly going home without this trinket was a most daunting prospect.

I hopped down to the boards and skipped over to where Shawn was kneeled down. His face was pressed against the wood, one eye scrunched tight shut while the other peered through the space between the planks. I turned my head and leaned down trying to see what he was looking at.

     "Well, looky here!" Shawn gasped. I raised my head to see him staring at me, wide-eyed. "D'ya think that's  _him_?" he swivelled his head towards the girl.

Hilary was still wiping her eyes and sniffling. "I don't care! I need my necklace or papa is going to smack me and send me to bed without any food today."

The boy stood up, tucking his shirt into his shorts and straightening his braces before he faced his friend. With his hands spread out, he emphasised the point he was trying to make. "But Hilary, if it's him he can just magic it back..."

     "Him? Who is  _him_? Anyway, that kind of stuff is just rubbish Shawn! You are just being silly believing such stories."

The boy became incensed that the little girl dismissed what he was trying to explain. Quite honestly, I could understand where she was coming from.  Who on Azeroth was he on about anyway? Only Hilary, Shawn and I were there on the quay. The boy was clearly delusional.

At that moment an excruciating pain penetrated my back. I found myself flattened against the wooden boards. Something sharp was digging in between my scapulas. I let out a shrill croak. My head slammed against the boards next. Distantly, over my own shrieks, I could hear the girl howling again and the boy shouting for something called Effcee to stop. Another sharp pain, this time at the back of my neck. It felt like teeth biting me!

The wooden planks started to vibrate, my body bouncing slightly with whatever had me pinned still. I continued cawing and finally, my wings spread and I was able to get a little leverage.  With a tremendous effort I started to flap and my chest raised from the quay. The movement caused my attacker to grip the back of my neck even tighter. Sweet Elune, it hurt!

I saw a huge shadow loom over me and suddenly the pressure on my back and neck was released. With the removal of my attacker, my body was instantly buoyant. With a determined flap, I was airborne. My eyes levelled with a man and in his hand, he held a charcoal coloured feline with yellow eyes, by the scruff of its neck. The cat hissed and swiped at me in mid-air. Instinctively I flapped my wings more frantically. My response caused the man to raise his free hand to his eyes, while his other one dropped the cat - over the side of the quay into the water.

A spine-chilling yowl came from the feline as it panicked, ears flat against the back of its head and pawing maniacally at the water. Hilary screamed even louder; Shawn yelled "Effcee overboard!"  the man, all brawn and extremely flustered at dropping the cat in the lake,  jumped down into the water to rescue the beast.  I meanwhile, remained airborne watching all with keen interest, and yes, a little smugness crept in that my attacker had literally ended up in deeper water than I had when it pounced on me.  Admittedly, I also felt a little sorry for it. 

     "Hurry mister Hale, Effcee is drowning!" Shawn shouted over the edge of the quay.

     "Hardly drowning lad," the man's voice answered back. "Her feet are nearly touching the lake bed." At that, Hilary yelled even louder. Mister Hale shook his head then reached out and snatched the cat out of the water. The thankless creature clawed at his face and neck before wriggling free, jumping out of his hands and landing on the grassy ledge. It quickly shook itself, head first then rippling all the way down to its tail before sloping off shaking a foot with every step.

     "Can you get Hilary's necklace while your down there Mister Hale, please?"

     "What?" the burly man said, rubbing his face and neck. I gathered he was attempting to soothe the sting that must have resulted from the cat's claws raking his skin.

     "Her necklace, it fell under the dock. You can see it, it's shining."

     "Honestly! You kids!" Mister Hale said, exasperated, then headed back under the dock.

Checking the cat was no longer anywhere to be seen, I landed back on one of the supports and proceeded to preen my primaries and secondaries. The effort caused me some discomfort and I flinched. My neck felt oddly damp and I could smell something - coppery. Yes! Coppery. Another little bit of knowledge having slipped from the veil over my memories.

Mister Hale came up out of the water, causing huge ripples and swells as he approached the banking. He strode up onto the quay, water dripping from his clothing leaving damp stains across the planks as he neared us. He held out his hand to Hilary, from which dangled the precious necklace. "Here lass. Now I strongly suggest you don't wear it when you're playing out here."

The girl's eyes widened and she smiled from ear to ear. "Oh thank you mister Hale."

The man nodded. "Right then, off you scarper, the two of you, you're scaring the fish and I've got a living to make.  And feed that damn cat why don't you?"

Hilary clapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled. "Why mister Hale! You shouldn't say that word in front of children."

Mister Hale stared in disbelief. He put his fists on his hips and glared at the two children. "I'll be saying a lot worse to your parents if you don't run along!"

At that, both Hilary and Shawn took off along the quay and disappeared up the hill behind the inn. Mister Hale stood watching them, chuckling to himself. Then he turned to me, the smile instantly vanishing from his broad face. "As for you," he said reaching out and grabbing me before I had a chance to react. "You almost ended up as the cat's dinner. I'll check you over, make sure you're not seriously hurt, then I expect you to be on your way too."

I looked ahead as he strode, feet squelching in his sodden boots, towards a shack at the lake's edge. Outside an array of long thin poles with small hoops and what looked like twine of some kind threaded through them,  were perched against the side of the small building. I was striving to remember what they were called when he turned and flung the door to the shack open. Inside, more of the poles stood regimental against the back wall. A table, sat hard against the wall on the left was strewn with odd multi-coloured spheres of varying sizes and sharp looking bent, barbed bits of metal. Under it were containers, which by the looks of them were traps of some kind.  It was when he pulled one of those traps out and placed it on the table, I just knew I was in for another spell of imprisonment.  He shoved me inside and closed it firmly, winding a bit twine around a bauble on the front of the contraption.

He then reached under the table again, and this time produced a slippery looking blueish-silver thing which I recognised as being a fish.  He slapped it down on the table beside me;  scales and droplets of water splattering over my newly cleaned feathers as a result.  "No doubt you'll be hungry once I check you over," he said looking at me from under his rather bushy eyebrows. He removed a blade from his belt and shoved it into the belly of the fish. With a quick yank, he slit it open up to its head.  Dark purple and blueish innards spilt onto the table which he shoved into a container on the floor at the side of the table. 

His mouth twitched and he gave me a sideways smirk.  "I'll soon have you fed and on your way raven. Just want to make sure you're not injured by that mental moggy. She's got quite a bite on her." He rubbed his face and neck again, smearing some fish scales on his skin as he did so. "Not to mention her ruddy claws." He smiled. "Name's Vernon Hale by the way," he said, waving the blade in front of himself. "Your local fishing supplier and luckily for you, keen bird-watcher."

I relaxed. I definitely preferred these humanoids to creatures with fur or toughened serpentine hide. The humans at least didn't try to kill me. And the added bonus was they fed me too!  I was so ready for this fish.

 


	6. Lakeshire Ladies

 

Vernon sat near the edge of the lake, a small campfire blazing, and two fish skewered, cooking on a spit. I sat close by, still confined to the contraption he had enclosed me within. All I knew was the fish smelled good and I did not want to miss out on the feast.

The fishing supplier looked down at me with one eyebrow cocked. "Now, I hope you're going to be reasonable when I take you out of there," he said.

I truly had no intention of being anything else, my stomach growled for the fish on that spit. I nonetheless eyed him warily as he untied the catch. My previous captor, Alarii, who although she was a tall lady - as are all night elves - had slender, delicate hands and needed both to hold me securely. Not so with Vernon. His hands were huge, he could easily hold me in one and still have room for a smaller avian relative. He reached inside and his fingers curled around me. Fish scales and dried blood were caked under his fingernails and embedded within the deep grooves of his callouses. A working man indeed, he was obviously not perturbed by the fish guts, muck or stench from his skin or clothing. Still, he was surprisingly gentle with me.

     "Now then birdy, let's see what old Effcee managed to do to you." With his forefinger, he lightly brushed my mantle up over my nape. "Ah, she got you, lad. Never mind, I can fix you." He pulled a rag from his britches pocket and shook it out.

     "And what on Azeroth are going to do with that?" a female's voice came from behind us.

Vernon turned around, still keeping a firm but gentle grip on me. A slender woman in simple attire; a long brown skirt, white blouse and black bodice, stood, hands on hips looking down at Vernon.

     "Hello, Amy," Vernon's eyes crinkled as he smiled broadly. "Well, I was going to clean this bird's wound. That blasted fiend of a cat nailed this one too, would you believe it!"

The woman's eyes widened as she saw the rag in Vernon's hand. "I hope you weren't going to use that filthy thing to do it!" she said pointing at the cloth.

I glanced up at Vernon's face. I do believe I saw him flush a little. "I don't have anything else at hand Amy," he replied a little whiny.

She tutted and told him to stay put while she went and got something better. I watched her go back up the small incline and move towards a covered cart. She fumbled about under the canvas, looking for whatever it was she sought. Meanwhile, Vernon pulled the fish from the spit. He broke a bit off and after blowing on it to cool it down, handed me a generous morsel. I eagerly accepted. "Hey! Steady there boy. You nearly had my fingers." He smiled and proceeded to pull apart some more of the delicious flaky fish for me.

I was gulping the second offering when Amy returned. In one hand she held a small vial and a vastly cleaner rag than Vernon had considered using. In her other, she carried a bowl of water. She placed it on the ground, then hitching her skirt a little to the side, she knelt down next to us. She placed the water in front of Vernon, then doused the rag and squeezed it out. "Hold him steady Vernon," she said bringing the rag towards the nape of my neck. "Easy now birdy," she cooed. I flinched as the ice cold water managed to trickle down my skin under my contours. She gently wiped down my neck, mantle and over the top of my scapulars. Vernon tightened his grip, not enough to hurt me, but sufficient to stop me from struggling.

Amy repeated the cleaning of my wound. I tried swivelling my head to see what she was doing as I heard a small popping noise. From the corner of my eye, I saw her empty some of the contents of the vial onto the rag. It turned the cloth a sickly ochre colour. I watched until my peripheral sight could no longer see her moving the cloth towards the back of my neck. I did, however,  _feel it_! It nipped quite severely, causing me to wriggle in Vernon's grip and cry out in my inimitable raven manner - a shrill repetitive croak.

     "Steady now," Amy said. "You'll be fine." I caught sight of the cloth as she pulled it away. It was now a reddish, murky colour, so I deduced it was mingled with my blood. Effcee had indeed left her mark on me. Amy dabbed my wounds again, this time they didn't sting so much. Vernon fed me some more fish, which despite the momentary discomfort of being nursed by the soft-spoken Amy, was much appreciated and needed. My stomach was still grumbling for more.

Vernon carefully released me, settling me down beside him. I knew they were only trying to help me, and quite honestly, I was not leaving any of that fish behind. I only hoped that Effcee was not attracted by the aroma. Almost as if to reassure me, Vernon placed the spit beside me and allowed me to pick away to my heart's content. Both the fishing supplier and Amy patted my back gently as I tucked into my meal.

     "So," I heard the woman saying, her tone somewhat teasing. "Are you coming to the shindig this evening, Vernon?"

I paused in my scoffing to glance up as I heard Vernon cough. He grinned, a slight glint in his eyes. "Oh, I'll be there, though I admit it seems a bit disrespectful, considering."

Amy sighed. "'Tis sad news yes, but we have to also embrace the good things too, Vernon. We have all been saved a most unpleasant demise."

The big man exhaled loudly. "True enough I suppose. He was a good man though. Met him once, and he was most affable."

Amy nodded. "He was kindly, that's for sure. I heard he had quite a wicked sense of humour too."

"So I believe, aye," Vernon laughed lightly. Then his face became sombre again. "It's his woman and babe I feel so sorry for."

Amy lowered her head. She seemed to be contemplating what Vernon had said. Their conversation made me feel a little strange. I could not calibrate what exactly had me feeling suddenly jittery, but I sensed a very distant ... link, connection to what they discussed.

Out of the blue, Amy chuckled and it pulled me from my reverie. "So, will you be donning your finest, Vernon?"

The man dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and chin. "That all depends."

    "And what will that be depending on then?" her eyes were once more bright.

     "On whether you will make it worth my while," he whispered, leaning towards her.

She winked at him then pushed herself up. She brushed down her skirt and picked up the bowl, cloth and phial she had brought over. "Why Vernon, you know fine us ladies don't disappoint."

He grinned wider. "Aye, that I do." He made a grab for her ankle which she quickly dodged with a little backwards skip.

     "Plenty time for that malarkey later, you big oaf. " She laughed. "But, you better scrub up well if you're requiring our attention this evening." She turned and left, humming a tune to herself as she climbed back up the incline.

My attention turned back to Vernon. His eyes were following Amy, then slowly they lowered to me. A slow grin crept over his mouth. "Aye, she's a wonder is that Amy Davenport," he said in a low voice. "I don't know whether I should marry her or not though."

Marry? I considered the term. Was he referring to mating with her? I pulled a bit flaky fish from the spit and gulped it down.

     "Truth is there are a good few to choose from," Vernon continued quietly. "All of them pretty darned fine too, if you know what I mean, raven." He winked at me.

The sound of beating wings suddenly made us look up. To my astonishment, another raven arrived and landed a short distance from where we sat. She was young and glossy, and by the looks of it hungry too. I croaked at her, inviting her to join us. Her head bobbed up and down and to the side as she eyed Vernon warily. She was right to be cautious at least, but I thought I would offer her some food. There was, after all, plenty and I knew what it was to be hungry.  I tore a piece off and skipped over with it for her. I laid it down nearby, then hopped back to Vernon's side. She stepped towards the offering, then stabbed at it a couple of times before she scooped it up and swallowed it down. She cawed her gratitude. I delivered another piece for her. Again, she accepted. I felt good within myself for sharing my meal with a fellow raven.

Vernon's laugh startled me a little and I eyed him questioningly. "Seems I won't be the only one getting his pleasure this evening." He raised his eyebrows at me then nodded over to the female bird. A few moments passed before I understood what he was inferring. Sweet Elune! He couldn't possibly mean that I would...No! I  _couldn't_...for  _some_ reason. I knew not what that reason was but it was a definite  _no_ regardless!

As I turned my head towards the female, I saw her looking back at me. Her eyes shifted to the fish and she emitted a caw. I stayed put.

Vernon's big hand nudged me. "Go on boy, you started flirting with her, may as well go the whole hog now, she seems keen." His face held suppressed mirth.  _Started flirting_? I most certainly did  _not_! I merely offered her... I could feel my contours prickle as it dawned on me. I had, albeit inadvertently, began a mating ritual. I shook my head, utterly crestfallen. Why did I not  _think_  before I did that!

I flew onto Vernon's shoulder. That just made him laugh out loud. "Why boy! You shy now?" I huddled closer to his head, feeling both ashamed and decidedly nervous that I had misled the female raven. I peeked out from behind his jaw to see her cocking her head in my direction. She cawed again and hopped closer. Back I sat, hoping somehow to become invisible. The belated realisation of my desperate situation and pathetic attempt to hide was exacerbated further as second female raven landed. This time right where I had been prior to my seeking refuge upon Vernon's shoulder. That one too looked at me expectantly.

"Seems the Lakeshire Ladies are not just those of the human persuasion," the fishing supplier voiced, chuckling. The two females started cawing quite persistently. Their rather, amorous insistence had me starting to feel uncomfortable and hot. I had two options, dive into the lake to get cool, or pant. The former would not be a wise choice, I had glimpsed the eels in there, and they were vicious, no doubt quite capable of dragging me under. So, I started to pant, the only real option there was if I was honest.

Birds do not sweat, though at that moment I sorely wished we did for I was unbelievably hot. My attention was drawn to the right as a breeze caused the shack door to slam shut, then swing open a fraction again. Ah! My third option, I thought. I wasted no more time excogitating my predicament and immediately flew to the shack door. I just managed inside before it blew shut a second time. From the safety of indoors, I could hear Vernon hooting with laughter. Quite why he found this scenario so amusing, was beyond me. A few moments later, he came into the shack with some of the fish in hand. "Not quite your type those ladies I gather. Here then raven, you can eat in peace. I'll leave the window open enough for you to get out if you want."

I looked up at him. I admit I was experiencing a sense of foolishness and his laughing at me just made me more embarrassed. As he closed the door behind him and I heard the latch drop, I pecked and tore at the food he left me. In my solitude, I tried to delineate why I was going through these strange emotions.

My head swam with visions of Alarii and her drawings; Jevon and how he admitted having feelings for her; that look in his eyes when his gaze met hers; the earlier exchange between Amy and Vernon. The horrifying prospect of ... well, being intimate I suppose with the female raven. I shuddered. Then the wet-eyed woman came into my thoughts. Her face rippled before my mind's eye as if I was watching her in a clear pool. I lingered on the memory of her. Why did she -  _haunt_  me so? Once more a tightening sensation in my chest followed the image of her suffering a sorrow I did not understand, yet I felt inexplicably connected to her pain. An overwhelming sense of something important was just out of my reach.

Confusion seemed to be setting in. I believed I had always thought things through in a logical and practical fashion, that I was not prone to fancy and improbability. Now, however, as I sat on a table, strewn with fishing tackle (another little bit of suppressed knowledge leaked) and flaked fish, I started to consider there was something I was not seeing. Something unusual about my circumstance. An allurement of some description, critical to me but which was missing, frustratingly unattainable.

A scratching sound pulled me abruptly from my thoughts. There at the window was the irascible Effcee; her yellow eyes growing blacker by the second as her pupils dilated, her attention on me unshakable. Her jaw chattered as a series of irritated clicks fell from her deadly maw. Her tail swished furiously back and forth. She tilted her head a little and to my horror, she squeezed in through the narrow gap afforded by the open window. He lithe body followed quickly and I flew up to the narrow lintel above the door just as she pounced on the table. I was quite smug I had outsmarted her. That was soon erased, however, as her face conveyed a superbity of her own. I watched with growing annoyance as she started to devour the remainder of the fish.

I cawed my irritation but she just continued eating, a look of victory in her oval eyes. This was unacceptable. I had enough of being attacked by creatures and now having my food stolen. I spread my wings and swooped down at her, screeching as I did so. My beak was a fair weapon in its own right and I jabbed at the top of her head as I flew over. She hissed and yowled, a paw lashing out, but missing me. I landed on the opposite lintel and turned to stare down at her. Her hackles were raised with tail fluffed out making her look three times her original size. Her eyes burned fierce - utter hatred flaring from them.

I watched with a mild amusement as she lowered herself on her haunches ready to pounce. As she launched herself in my direction I flew over again and back to the original lintel. Her mew this time was laced with frustration. I cawed at her again. Once more she was poised on the table, her body shuddering as her muscles tensed ready for attack. When she leapt, I omitted a shrill croak.

This expostulation was entirely different to previous ones, however. I stared in disbelief as a sizzling bright blue bolt left my beak. It travelled with an excruciatingly lethargic momentum and hit Effcee square on her chest. The cat was thrown backwards. Her agile body twisted and writhed in mid-air. The razor-filled mouth opened soundlessly. When her feet finally met the edge of the table, time corrected itself and suddenly she was racing around the walls, increasing acceleration with each circuit and yowling madly. As her body passed under where I still sat perched, I could see her fur was singed where the mysterious bolt had hit her. Her maniacal tour of the shack walls continued until I heard the door open. "What the blazes is going - ." Vernon's voice bellowed into the wooden room. A mew of relief and Effcee was out the door quicker than a mage could blink. Sweet Elune! Another erudite snippet of knowledge came to the fore.

"Bloody cat!" I heard him rant. "Raven! Where are you?" I watched from above as his huge frame came into the shack. I cawed. He turned and found me on the door lintel. "Not exactly your day, is it lad?" he mused as he visually checked I had not acquired any further injuries. Shaking his head and grinning to himself, he beckoned me down. "Come on then, I think you'll be safer with me at home. Business will be slow today as celebrations are afoot, so I will close up."

 

 

The rest of the day was spent at Vernon's home. It was a very pleasant abode as far as human accommodation went and surprisingly clean and tidy. I had somehow thought it would be just a larger scale version of the fishing shack, but it was far removed from it. The interior was mainly neutral, with a splash of bright colours on the soft plump cushions, seating and drapes at the windows. Some wood carved figurines, birds mostly, lined the mantel above a generous fireplace. All in all, it was a cosy little house.

He allowed me free reign of his house and ample food. He also checked my wounds, courtesy of Effcee's successful attack earlier that day. There was not much discomfort now and Vernon confirmed that they seemed to be healing nicely.

I looked out the lattice window of his bedchamber and saw the small town lighting up. Small spheres on strings were wound around the eaves of the buildings and looped through fences and basically any structure the townsfolk could attach them to. Small floating lanterns were pushed out on the lake, their flickering golden light rippling over the water's surface. It was very pretty.

I flinched as Vernon's voice unexpectedly came through from a room where I had heard a lot of splashing, singing (his slightly off-key baritone vocalisation) and clattering of items. He appeared in the bedchamber, his shoulder-length hair darkened, being wet and a towel fastened around his waist with another slung over his shoulders. I noted a large scar on his side which ran from his right hip and up to the base of his ribcage.  I heard Dana's words echo in my mind and wondered if Vernon had been the poor sap who had tackled the boar that ate the notorious Martie Jainrose's begonias.   A rather strong, spicy but not entirely unpleasant fragrance drifted from him. "Now raven, you can have run of the house while I'm out, but try not to ... you know,  _mess_  all over the place."

I huffily turned my attention back to the street below. Why did some individuals have such a low opinion of my bowel movements and my ability to control them, I wondered. A soft splat on the floor beneath me then answered that very question. Vernon gasped. "Oh! Now looky there! Just what I was saying you were  _not_  to do!" Inwardly, I was ashamed, but I fixed my gaze to the festivities beginning outside and pretended not to notice my inappropriateness. I heard him mopping up my accident, grumbling as he did so. I gave him a sideways look. "I'm expecting to have some very pleasant company back here this evening, " he explained, tossing the soiled scrap of cloth he used into a metal container near the window. He then pointed at my tail. "So, I would appreciate if you point  _that end_  out the window at least, should you need to answer the call of nature."

I cawed with an indignant odium. I had merely been caught unawares, there really was no need to be so vocal about it. Us birds did not like our own nests soiled, and so I did not deliberately do my business in Vernon's abode. I shuffled my feathers, still coming to terms with my embarrassment.

**_Music: NIL SE'N LA performed by Celtic Women_ **

 

 

Vernon then crossed the room to a vertical oblong container and pulled it open. Inside hung some articles of clothing. He mumbled to himself as he took time selecting which items he would put on. Suddenly he whipped off the towel around his waist and started drying his torso rather roughly with it. He used the other towel to dry his hair. A few moments later he was dressed. I had to admit, he cut quite a handsome figure of a man once he was cleaned up and attired nicely.  

"I'm going to leave this window open for you. No cats can get in here so no need to worry. Just remember what I said now about - you know what." And with that, he left. I heard the front door close and I watched as he headed across the street with a confident stride making his way downhill towards the inn. The sudden quietness of the little house closed in on me. 

Looking outside, I saw more people heading towards the inn while others were crossing the lake in small boats to where there were tables set up, laden with food and drinks and more of those little coloured spheres draped over makeshift supports for the overhead canvas that covered the tables. There was a definite vibe in the air; a sense of community, kinship and general well-being. Curiosity had the better of me, so I exited through the open window and flew over the town.

I glided down to the signage of the inn. It was an ideal perch from which I could see inside the window at all the festivities. There was much gaiety and music and laughter. I caught sight of Vernon near the back of the large room. There were three ladies around him, one being Amy, all smiling and talking to him. I watched with considerable awe when he leaned down and planted his lips on each of theirs. He put his arms around their waists and drew them closer to him. Their faces showed delight and I could hear their chuckles even from my viewpoint. He suddenly broke away with Amy and I watched as the two of them started swirling and stepping around the floor to the music. The other two women crossed over and joined in. He was soon cutting a jig with them all. Seemed Vernon was quite a hit with the ladies of Lakeshire. I found myself wondering which one would be his "very pleasant company" later as I saw him grabbing them by their behinds. Surely he wouldn't... No! Then again, as I continued to observe them, it seemed highly likely his company would consist of more than just one lady.

Shrieks of laughter came from further along the road towards the east of the town. Couples linking arms made their way to the stone bridge in a celebratory mood, laughter and singing carrying on the air. By all accounts, not everyone wished to cross the lake by boat.

A low growl crept up from the bushes below me. I scanned the foliage, and there between the leaves, I caught a glimpse of yellow eyes. Effcee. I flapped my wings and cawed shrilly at her. My beak chittered in satisfaction as I witnessed her shoot out from the shrubbery and run towards the stables at the far end of the docks. I knew then, I would not be bothered by her again.

All things and incidents considered, I had survived Lakeshire rather well. I flew back to Vernon's home and perched outside under the eaves, keeping myself concealed and sheltered. With one last lingering thought drifting towards the wet-eyed woman, I closed my eyes and wished her a peaceful night under the watchful eye of Elune.


	7. Fire And Ice

 

**_Music: CRY JUST A LITTLE BIT - Avantasia_ **

She was bending over the small basket she had brought into the room.  I heard her humming an unfamiliar tune as she sorted through the laundry in the basket before she proceeded to open drawers in a large wooden dressing table.  I continued watching her as she placed some of the clothing inside. She swayed her hips to the tune she still carried as she busied herself with her chores.   

I was acutely aware of my heart beating a little faster. The sight of her body stirred me. I heard a voice, a man's voice;  _my_  voice? "I like how there is more of you now." I felt mirth rumbling in my chest.

The woman slowly turned to face me. Distantly, I heard myself gasp. It was the wet-eyed woman! But, this time her eyes were dry, yet sparkling. She narrowed them; it seemed to be in jest.  The corners of her mouth twitched.  She  _was_  beautiful.

My eyes moved down her body and I saw her swollen belly. The sight filled me with joy, the reason why still a little murky in my thoughts, yet pleasing to my soul. Then something white and soft hit me. I looked up, and the woman was trying hard not to give way to her smile. She had just pummeled me with a pillow. "Are you trying to tell me that my butt's big?" she asked, feigning offence.

I could feel myself starting to laugh. It was a wonderful sensation. I felt uplifted, euphoric –  _human_! "I am just saying it suits you and there is ... well, more for me to hold on to..." She hit me again, but this time her face was smiling as she did so. 

I bent down and picked up a pillow of my own and hit her back, not too hard. Her 'condition' registered as miraculous and very precious to us.  _Us_? The image rippled. No! Somehow, from out with the room I felt panic as I saw her image waver.

We continued to duel with the pillows and feathers started to float around us. Again I felt panic stabbing at me. Were they  _my_ feathers? No! How could they be? For one thing they were white but more importantly – I was a man –  _was I not_?

The room shimmered again, like a reflection in a pool with ever-increasing ripples.

I watched, oddly envious, as I/he pulled the woman towards me/him. It was becoming muddy. The thoughts crossing over, twisting, spinning. We fell onto the bed. 

She wrapped her arms around  _me_  – I could almost feel her closeness. Then she whispered something. Was it my name? Did she call me a name? It sounded like...The room started to swirl, like water vanishing in a drain. No!! What did she say?  _Caagaw_...

I cracked an eye open as the first rays of the sun shimmered in the distance. Sweet chirruping was all around me; the dawn chorus heralding the start of a new day. It took a few moments for me to realise I had been dreaming. 

The dream had left me feeling sad yet happy, confused, unnerved. It was fading though. But, I could clearly remember her face. Smiling, no tears.

Aches in my body prevented me from dwelling further on my dream. In truth, I could not understand it. I shuffled slightly on my perch, then flexed my wings, eradicating the stiffness in my muscles from staying in the one position all night. 

As I did so, I glanced in the bedroom window. I swear I nearly fell from my perch at the sight which met my eyes. 

Three bodies lay tangled on Vernon's bed, one being the man himself, his arms around a woman to either side of him. They lay, heads resting on his chest, smiles curling their lips. A movement to the right caught my attention and then I saw Amy, emerging from the washroom. Naked!

Perhaps that explained my dream, I thought. I must have either heard or seen the lovers enter the room last night. Maybe I witnessed more before sleep claimed me, but I could not recall. 

It would indeed elucidate why a raven would dream of being a man and with a woman in his arms, after all. Although no-one had bore witness to my dream, I could not help but feel both foolish and oddly disappointed that it had been a mind-trick and nothing more.

By all accounts, it seemed Vernon had astounding stamina. I decided to leave the fishing supplier with his little harem and I took to the skies once more.

I headed north-west, up through the mountains and over into Burning Steppes. The land was harsh, arid,  sulphur billowing from the lava streams which bubbled and threaded through the realm. 

From the northeastern Dreadmaul Rock and the northern Flame Crest down to the southern parts of the region, small pockets of liquid fire provided homes to vicious grells. They were imps; bright orange and red with long spindly limbs, pointed ears and rows of sharp razor-like teeth. If they didn't bite or scratch you, worse still they blasted you with fireballs having absorbed the power of the elements from the lava streams themselves. One avoided these little demons at all costs.

Further along, giant kodos, powerful, reptilian horned creatures used as mounts or beasts of burden to pull heavy wagons, stood close together near an orc settlement. They grunted and snorted as a young orc neared to steer them together, readying them for whatever work lay ahead. 

One kodo, its toughened, mottled grey hide rippled as it turned on the young orc who was trying to slip reins and a harness over the beast's muzzle. Nearby onlookers came to the young orc's rescue, beating back the aggressive kodo with large prodding sticks. 

The boy, it seemed, had escaped serious injury, but was nonetheless shaken.  He was ordered by one of the others to go to the nearby hut while they saw to the beasts. The boy looked ashamed in his failure to carry out the task. He slunk into the hut, dejected. 

Moving on, I saw many more orcs, a number of which seemed to guard young dragonkin whelps. The young creatures were chained, panicked, screeching for their freedom. What horrors lay in store for them I knew not, but there was obviously a lucrative trade to be had from the sale of these little dragons. 

Their shimmering scales of red, azure, gold and emerald along with their youth made them easy targets for the greedy orcs. I empathised completely with the dragonkin, knowing only too well the feeling of hopelessness, trapped within an environment you could not see deliverance from. Yet, I had been fortuitous in recent days and perhaps the same good fortune would befall these youngsters. I certainly hoped so.

As I glided to my left, the imposing presence of Blackrock Mountain served as a focal point to the land. I knew this place, I knew its history. How mattered not to me, I just revelled in the fact that it was all familiar. 

The landmark, with its rabbit-run of tunnels, mines, chambers and halls, lured me towards its enormous iron doors. These gargantuan welded,  bolted slabs of iron were manufactured by the Dark Iron dwarves many, many years ago, following civil war and conflicts known as the War of Three Hammers. They had been beaten back by two other dwarven clans, the Wildhammer and the Bronzebeard, who had allied with each other to force the Dark Iron to return to the depths of Blackrock.  

This was their fortress, although they had become enslaved to a mighty elemental which resided within its depths.  Blackrock was a dormant volcano and I resisted the temptation to enter.  Partly because I felt a need to continue north and knew somehow my curiosity would drive me deep into the bowels of the mountain.  

I had a hunger for knowledge, which, on reflection was very peculiar for a raven, but I accepted the fact that was how I was. A nosy bird. But, the pull of the mountain failed to make me venture in.

I had, however, a sudden need to rest upon a ledge above the doorway.  For some inexplicable reason, I had been flooded with visions of the wet-eyed woman again. 

Each time I thought of her, my heart contracted, this time to the point I could not maintain my flight path. The images were steadily becoming clearer each time she graced my mind. Her voice even seemed to penetrate some distant, deep part of me which I could not identify. It remained out with my reach, my understanding, my logic. 

Even stranger still, I looked forward to these interludes from my reality. It is incredibly frustrating and a little unsettling, however, when an absolute certainty, likened to a cincture, encompasses you in your entirety, but you cannot ascribe to its ambiguity.  I was left strangely aching; yearning to see her face, her eyes, her lips. I shook myself. This was ridiculous. I had somewhere to be; though where exactly, I wasn't quite sure. With a vigorous preening, I soon felt ready to continue my journey.

I flew around the eastern face of the mountain, passing through the black smoke which rose from the lava river at its base. My focus cleared and the grey daylight from Searing Gorge greeted me. 

Similar to Burning Steppes, the land was dry, parched, but still host to some ferocious creatures which one simply did not wish to aggravate.

Large fiery crimson lizards with magenta coloured webbed spines, stretching from their napes to their tails, lumbered across the dry, cracked soil at the base of a large dwarven settlement that rose high above the reptiles' path.  These lizards were incendosaurs of the genus diemetradon;  great powerful creatures which could give you a very, very nasty bite. They were sought after for their scales and fire-gizzards which the Thorium dwarves – a friendly off-shoot from the Dark Iron - made into useful items for armour and weapons. 

A flurry of activity to my left caught my eye. Although I did not want to see anyone hurt I couldn't help but feel some amusement as I witnessed a young hunter and warlock attempt to bring one of the reptiles down. 

Normally slow and sluggish, incendosaurs could equally move at an alarming speed and without warning.  These short bursts of speed had the two attackers turning and dashing for the highest land area they could reach before the reptile snapped and hissed at their ankles. 

At one point, however, the encounter was too close for comfort and I had an overwhelming need to intervene.I swooped down, hurtling towards the incendosaur as it lunged at the inexperienced youngsters. I screeched. 

The hunter and warlock looked towards me, utter disbelief on their faces as I drew closer. The reptile turned its yellow eyes on me, its mouth opening in a threatening hiss. I omitted another loud screech and just as had happened with Effcee, a bolt of azure left my beak and impacted on the creature's flank. It roared as I jettisoned yet another bolt. 

I was exhilarated by this inexplicable force, and I must admit, I was rather enjoying myself.  The beast roared again, this time its scales turned from their natural crimson, through to a piercing azure blue, tinged with white. My bolts were ice! 

I circled above as it retreated from the small rocky foothold the two youths were perched upon. The reptilian head turned, trying to see where I was. Once more I screeched and three smaller bolts fired from my gullet, one hitting the ground just in front of the creature and the other two hit it again on the left flank. 

This time I watched as the azure blue spread over its entire side, slowing its movements, eventually rendering it motionless. I glided down and took a spot just above where the hunter and warlock still stared in awe at the incendosaur as it slumped at the base of the rock. Their eyes turned slowly up towards me.

     "Kill it!" I heard the warlock whisper.

     "What? But, it ... it  _helped_ us."

The warlock sighed heavily. "Not the bird! The incendosaur!"

     "Oh!" the hunter nodded, then nocked an arrow to his bow. I watched as he pulled the string back, taking time to ensure the missile would hit an effective spot on the frozen reptile. His pulling arm started to tremble. I could hear the creak of the bow's limbs as he pulled it taut.

     "For crying out loud, just shoot it!" the warlock said, exasperated.

The hunter took exception to the spell-weaver's tone and momentarily lowered his bow, turning to face his companion.

     "I suppose  _you_ can do better?" 

     "Oh get on with it, Theldran! You're the one wanting the guts to make a new bowstring."

The hunter huffed and raised his weapon again. Just as he was about to release his arrow the beast lurched forward. 

Both warlock and hunter screamed and the arrow clattered down the boulder, useless. Without a second thought, I fired at the beast once more. The frostbolt this time took its toll and the reptile ceased moving altogether. 

Once more I was rather impressed by my skill and not at all did I stop to think it was a very un-raven-like ability. I shook out my feathers as the two boys turned their huge eyes towards me again. I flinched as they screamed once more.

Too late, I saw the enormous shadow fall over me as a large fleshy hand encircled my body. I was duly plucked from my perch and found myself staring up into a huge rounded face. Beady eyes which seemed ridiculously out of proportion for such a big head looked at me, with a mixture of annoyance and sadness. From its mouth protruded two small tusks, and big rubbery lips quivered around them. It was an ogre.

     "No kill!" it said in a monotone, husky voice. "Why you kill things?"

I managed a sideways look at the two companions on the boulder below me. They didn't seem scared now. They were actually smiling.  The hunter shouted up to the ogre. "Don't hurt him. he's going to be my new pet."

 _Pet_? I sincerely hoped he was  _not_ referring to me. I wriggled in my captor's hand and dibbed at the fleshy fingers. His face scrunched up making his eyes almost disappear completely. Although he loosened his grip, he did not let me go. We both then looked at the warlock who had started laughing helplessly. 

     "Pet?" he wheezed mockingly. "A raven?" He chuckled madly, nearly losing his balance from the boulder. I was not for being anyone's pet, but neither was I prepared to be considered of inadequate ability to be one. 

I coughed out a frost bolt which hit the rock just in front of the warlock. He stumbled and fell on his behind in the dry dirt below. I cawed my satisfaction but that soon turned into a nervous squawk as the ogre's fingers tightened slightly and he shook me. "No hurt boy!" It bellowed at me.

     "Please! Don't hurt him either, he is just frightened. If you picked me up  _I'd_  be frightened." The hunter was quick to my defence.

The ogre then hung his head and again loosened his grip on me. I wriggled free and flew down to the hunter. The boy smiled broadly as I landed on his outstretched arm. "See?" he said glancing up at the ogre. "He is not a bad bird. He saved Jarieth and me from the incendosaur."

The ogre's brow crinkled, as if unsure how to take this revelation. The warlock started laughing again as he picked himself up and dusted down his robes. "He's telling the truth, Lunk," he said to the ogre. "Granted though, that bird is  _very_ different from others of its kind."

 

   


	8. Puzzle Pieces

The two boys led the way up the steep incline that opened into the tiered settlement. The Iron Summit as it was known was predominantly occupied by dwarves. It offered, however, from snippets I overheard, a busy little  industry  attracting tradesmen from far and wide who required the specific wares the settlement offered; namely the scales, gizzards and hides of the incendosaurs and the frequently acquired bullets from the Iron Dwarves who worked and guarded the nearby mines within an area known as The Cauldron. 

The boys were expecting Jarieth's father, a tradesman, who was due to arrive within the hour from his visit to Thorium Point, another dwarven settlement,  across the plains.  Lunk, as the ogre was called, followed them quietly, his brow knotted in deep thought.

On the lower tier was an anvil and forge, fiercely guarded by a gruff looking dwarf.

     "Hello, Fergus!" Theldran shouted as we passed. Jarieth also greeted the dwarf.

     "Lads," Fergus replied. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me sitting on Theldran's arm. "Whit ye got there, Theldran?"

     "A raven," the hunter replied, quite seriously.

The dwarf huffed. "Well ah cun see  _that_!"

     "It's a special raven," Jarieth intervened.

Fergus grunted then scoffed. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned to his forge. "Aye. Whitever, lads."

The boys shrugged, then waved to more dwarves on the opposite side who busied themselves cataloguing and arranging crates, barrels and bags of supplies for the settlement. A couple of the workers waved back but quickly resumed what they were doing.

On the next tier, a flight master tended to his two mounts; one a wyrven, which was technically a flying lion, favoured by the Horde as I recalled. They were beautiful and usually more placid than one would initially imagine. This one lay on top of a broad wooden perch, with its head resting on its paws. It opened one eye and looked at me. I watched, a little unsettled as its eye dilated and mouth rippled. A low growl came from deep in its throat. I flinched as it flicked its tail like a whip. After a few unnerving moments, it closed its eye again and returned to snoozing in the midday sun.

The other perch, more of a large nest really, housed a majestic gryphon; the great eagles of the Alliance skies. It simply flexed its wings, omitted a shrill screech then settled within the hay on its nest. I supposed it looked upon me as a poor and considerably smaller relative. The boys cordially waved at the flight master, who nodded in turn.

Next up was what I took to be the outhouse - for the  _entire_ settlement, going by the smell alone. I caught a glimpse of the boys wrinkling their noses as they passed it. What amazed me, was the woman who stood to the side of the building. She seemed utterly unfazed, perfectly cheery, smiling a greeting as we passed by. I wondered if perhaps she was responsible for cleaning the latrine. I'm ashamed to say that I also thought if she was, she wasn't doing a particularly good job; either that or the dwarves here had a rather questionable diet.  She, however, obviously had no sense of smell - lucky for her!                   

We had reached the top of the settlement, and in front of us was an iron construction consisting of one floor. A large ramp took you to the said floor, which, in all truth, was more of a platform really. It ran around the outside of the four corner supports. Above this was the roof.  I had to admit, it seemed a bit pointless to me other than the vantage point it offered to take in the entire panorama that was Searing Gorge.

Lunk, dropped like a stone on his behind at the base of the ramp. The two boys stared at each other than at the ogre. "What are you doing?" Jarieth asked him.

     "Sitting," Lunk replied. He reached into the small satchel he carried and pulled out an apple then proceeded to take a large bite from it. So large in fact the core was practically all that was left.

     "Well, we can see that," Jarieth said mirthfully."But, erm, we need to get up there."

Lunk tossed the core away and pulled out another apple. "No, you don't."

Theldran and Jarieth glanced at each other and back at Lunk. "We do though, Lunk," Jarieth persisted. "My father is up there."         

The ogre's beady eyes glittered as he looked at the young warlock. "You trick Lunk before with that."

The warlock shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "Yes, well, I was only having a little fun."

     "That fun nearly make you dead."

The two boys grinned at each other mischievously. I took it from their exchange that this ogre had been placed in charge of these two urchins and they enjoyed tormenting him with their pranks.  Lunk had a valid point, however, their last antic had almost cost them dearly.  

     "You exaggerate," Jarieth laughed.

The ogre took a furious bite of his second apple, this time engulfing the core too. Between chewing he spat out his annoyance, apple juice dribbling down his bulbous chin as he did so. "You make Lunk look bad. Lunk told to look after you until your father returns."

I had to admit, I felt somewhat sorry for the big guy. An ogre he may be, but he was unlike most of his brethren. From his intervention with the incendosaur earlier, he cared, it seemed, for all living things, even these two rascals who led him a merry dance. For all he was not the most articulate of individuals, I deduced, he nonetheless had a kind heart and a soul full of good intentions. Quite what I was thinking I do not know, but I flew down to sit beside him. He stared at me for a while, his beady eyes seeming to study my plumage with interest. I watched as his brows knitted together as if processing a thought. I wondered what he was thinking.

     "Lunk thinking you are a strange bird."

I stilled. That was either an  _extraordinary_ coincidence or he had actually, somehow, sensed what I was thinking. I decided to find out which it was.  _What is your name?_  I thought.

The ogre shifted slightly and leaned down, resting his forearm on his knee as he inspected me closely.  I watched in silence as the two boys sneaked past. "Lunk," the big guy answered me. "What's yours?"

I was rooted to the spot. I did not dare think that anything or anyone would be able to read my thoughts, but this rather environmentally friendly giant seemed to be able to do that very thing. I decided it may be beneficial to communicate with him in this manner.  Perhaps I would uncover areas of thought which I believed buried deep in, or at the very least, elusive to my avian mind. If I was lucky I may be able to fit some puzzle pieces together.  _"I do not have a name, at least, not to my knowledge,"_  I replied through my thoughts.

     "Hmm," Lunk muttered. "Then I just call you...Raven."

 _"Fine by me, Lunk."_ I ruffled my feathers and cawed to show my acceptance.

Lunk delved into his satchel and after a few moments pulled out what looked like a piece of cured meat. He offered it to me. "I not like. Not eat meat but I keep odd bits for critters, like you."

I stabbed at it with my beak. It was more tender than it looked, and in all honesty, it was rather tasty. Its flavour was spicy I guessed as my tongue felt tingly after I took a piece, but not uncomfortably so. It was then that the ogre realised the boys had scarpered up the ramp. His face scrunched up and for a moment I thought he was actually going to cry, but then he exhaled loudly and guffawed. I looked at him questioningly, cocking my head from side to side. 

He pointed a chubby finger downhill. "Boys think Lunk stupid. Lunk not so." I turned to where he pointed and saw a human male heading up the hill. He was broad, powerful, lugging a cart, full of crates and hides up the hill with assumed ease. The dwarves he passed on the way shouted cheery hellos as he rumbled up and neared the foot of the iron structure Lunk and I sheltered under. "Jarieth's father," Lunk informed me. "I knew he was not up the ramp. I play Jarieth at his own game."

I chattered my beak in a gesture of mirth. Seemed this gentle giant was not as easily fooled as one first thought. At that very instant the boys descended and caught sight of Jarieth's father. They looked at the ogre. Jarieth placed a friendly hand on Lunk's shoulder and laughed. "You got me, Lunk."

     "I know," the ogre replied joining in the laughter.

The boy's father approached, a wan smile on his lips. He stopped short of where we sat and glanced at the boys, but his eyes lingered on the young night elf hunter. Theldran saw this as an opportunity to inform the man that he had discovered a new "pet". The man then looked me over, a hint of mirth played in his eyes.  "I have news from the Dark Portal boys," the man said, refusing to pursue what Theldran had just told him.

Bizarrely, a veil of silence seemed to fall over the settlement, even the gryphon and wyrven quietened. The man looked at Theldran in particular. "Sad news I'm afraid, boy..."

The young night elf faltered. "My father?" he whispered, eyes wide with alarm.

     "No! No, Lhadral is safe, thank goodness" he paused while the boy showed relief that his father was alive. "I'm sorry to tell you though, Rishuul didn't make it." Theldran slumped. This Rishuul was obviously important to the boy.

 

**_Music: BEYOND THE INVISIBLE by Enigma_ **

_"Lhadral_.  _Why is that name vaguely familiar to me?"_

     "You know him?"

I glanced up at Lunk. He was asking that question of me. Turning my head to the others I saw them all staring at the ogre and me. Lunk answered their unspoken question by gesturing to me with his thumb. "Raven knows Lhadral."

 _"I'm not entirely sure that I do actually,"_  I replied.  _"It's just the name sounds familiar."_

     "It will come to you," the ogre said as if offering reassurance. Meanwhile, three pairs of eyes watched us with increasing disbelief. They no doubt thought Lunk a bit odd, speaking to a bird as if it were another humanoid. Jarieth's father then cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Theldran. "Sorry lad, I know Rishuul was a favourite of yours too."

Theldran sighed heavily. "Yes, she was a good cat, very loyal. My father will miss her greatly too."

     "Aye, I believe he was really distressed over her loss. Your mother, however, will be arriving soon and probably the very way she intends to take you home, by portal."

The young night elf nodded. "Well, thank you for allowing me to come along."

The man smiled sympathetically. "You two rascals have been inseparable for years, I don't mind bringing you along in the least, Theldran, besides it is educational for you if nothing else. I hope however, you two have not been causing trouble." At that, he looked towards his son.

Jarieth shrugged and gave a sideways look at Lunk. Then his eyes came to rest on me. "Theldran was telling you he has a new pet," he announced pointing at me. I really objected to being thought of as such.

His father raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? A raven?"

     "Oh but he is quite unique," Theldran injected moving closer to me.

     "What's so special about him?" the man said with a resigned sigh.

     "He shoots bolts of magic," Theldran said trying to coax me onto his arm.

     "Magic! A raven?" Jarieth's father asked, his voice peppered with laughter still. "Did you fall and bang your head or something, boy?"

I jumped back, trying to avoid Theldran's arm. He inched forward. I moved back. The boy was clearly disappointed I would not respond as he wished, but he knew there was no amount of coaxing would get me to go to him now. "I can assure you, he cast bolts of frost from his beak and killed the incendos..." his voice trailed off.

From the glance between himself and Jarieth, I gathered it was a bit of information they had wanted to keep from Jarieth's father. Judging by the look on the human's face, I sensed why they had wanted to keep it quiet.

     "You went down to the flats?" the man said, his voice suddenly dark, angry.

     "Erm, only for a moment..." Theldran said, his tapered eyebrows fluttering in the updraught from the base of the settlement.

     "We wanted to help save the raven because the incendosaur was going after it and Lunk was too slow to reach it first!" Jarieth offered. Theldran gave a slight nod of his head, confirming his friend's explanation. Lunk emitted a loud grunt of protest.

     "Let me get this straight. You went to save a raven which can escape easily by flying..." The boys looked a tad sheepish. "One, who you attest, is armed with frost bolts? Allegedly!" the warlock's father stood with his fists on hips and scowling at the boys for their implausible yarn.

A sound like a water torrent escalated to a loud thrum, and just behind Jarieth's father, a swirling azure, jade and amethyst mass expanded, forming a rough oval shape. From its centre, a woman emerged. She was striking, blue-skinned, small horns atop her head and she moved with such exquisite grace.  She was familiar. Jarieth's father turned. "Good afternoon Umrii," he said.

 _"Umrii?"_  I hopped forward. My heart seemed to beat extra. The sense that I knew her somehow, harboured the promise of revelation. Uncovering quite what, I knew not, but it was a gut feeling and I could not shake it.

     "You know her too?" Lunk asked.

The woman was oblivious to the ogre speaking with me and addressed Jarieth's father. "Hello Konrad, how are you and the boys. Has Theldran been behaving?"

Before Konrad had a chance to answer, the young night elf moved to his mother's side. "How is Father? I heard about Rishuul."

The woman lowered her head and took a deep breath. A maternal gesture was afforded her son as she turned him around and fixed his hair then brushed down his tunic. The boy was visibly embarrassed by his mother's preening of his person. Jarieth sniggered behind his hand. Koran cuffed the warlock's ear relieving the boy of his mocking laughter. "Your father is understandably very upset," the woman said in her melodic accent. "He's had Rishuul from the time she was a cub." There was a hitch in the woman's voice. This Rishuul was obviously very important to all the family.  

I was still mulling over the names. They were definitely familiar. This woman in particular. There was something about her that reached far into my psyche, straining to scratch at a memory hidden deep within the perimeter of my mind. Puzzle pieces floated about in my head, almost fitting together then floating away, tumbling. " _I will remember. I will!"_

     "Remember what?" Lunk asked, leaning down to me. I watched from the side as all eyes turned to us. Lunk offered an explanation. "He knows you, but he does not remember how."

     "Remembers who?" Konrad asked.

     "Woman and boy's father," the ogre replied pointing to Umrii and Theldran.

The woman sighed heavily. "That is highly unlikely. The only 'raven' that would know us perished at the Dark Portal. More sad news for the people I'm afraid." She turned to the portal she had conjured and with a hand on her son's shoulder guided him through. She was about to step over the threshold herself when Konrad spoke. "You mean the Archmage? So it is true? He is dead?"

Umrii paused and looked back over her shoulder at the human. A sadness filled her eyes.  She nodded. " I would like to think he is with my father now. They were great friends. But their spirits may be no more after what happened at the Dark Portal." Konrad nodded an acknowledgement.  "Thank you for bringing Theldran on this trip, Konrad. He does so enjoy travelling with you both," she smiled at both the tradesman and his son before bowing her head and steering Theldran through the portal. The shimmering colours wavered and pulsated, the oval shape gradually decreasing in size.

Konrad looked towards me, his eyes heavy. "Well, you are no Archmage anyway raven. May he rest in peace. I hope he has somehow found Vindicator Ocel to travel the Twisting Nether with."

I blinked my eyes. And again. Archmage? Ocel? I looked at the reducing portal. With a pop, it vanished. 

A pain in my chest caused me to shuffle to the side, stumbling.  I knew not what was happening, but I knew it was not life-threatening. It was more - emotional. Lunk's hand closed gently around me. "It okay Raven. It will come back to you."

Puzzle pieces ... puzzle pieces ...

 


	9. Lunk

The young warlock and his father soon went on their way also, portalled by some other mage companion who had alighted the ramp shortly after Theldran and Umrii departed. I stayed in Lunk's company for the remainder of that day, enjoying the "conversations" we shared although the topics were somewhat limited. For all it was a most unusual situation, it felt oddly close to some distant reality as if talking to someone was the normal way of things for me. 

I pondered over this from time to time during our conversing. Lunk seemed to understand there was something going on with me. Yes, the ogre was not particularly bright, but that did not make him insensitive. Truth be told he was perhaps one of the most astute individuals, on that front, I had happened across in my travels so far.

He said he needed to return to Thorium Point, across the plains, beyond the Cauldron. As he shambled down the path of the Iron Summit, I asked why he did not simply take the griffon. He explained he did not particularly like heights and most certainly not the distance between him and the ground if he were on the back of a flying mount. Fair enough, I thought. So, a walk it was, dangerous though it would be.

Understanding his distaste for creatures being harmed, I decided that if we were being attacked, I would fire my frost bolts to the side of any assailants and hope it would serve as enough of a threat to effectively ward them off. If not...

He possessed a slow easy stride, which most would expect of the ogre genus certainly. Along with this, however, was his amiable and unassuming persona and that oddly enough seemed to allow him easy passage past the aggressive denizens of the unforgiving territory. At least those that were nature's creations.

 

**_Music: TRUE POWER WITHIN by Peter Gundry_ **

The same could not be said for the War Golems which patrolled the area around the Cauldron. These products of the Dark Iron dwarves served as sentinels, guarding against intruders and perhaps some misguided adventurers from infiltrating the mines. 

They were enormous stone and metal giants, not unlike the ancient Titans in appearance, if artistic efforts served us an accurate impression. They moved with a menacing and deliberate gait, back and forth, back and forth. The metal armour ground against their stone frames leaving fine trails of powdered rock in their wake. 

Quite what lifespan these guardians had was not entirely certain, but I reckoned they would be mass produced regardless, for if they were not disassembled or broken by self-acclaimed heroes, then they would surely disintegrate over time. 

To take one of these on, you had to know what you were doing. They could pulverise you with one heavy swing of enormous hands or stomp of their feet. Even one who could manipulate magic and attack at a distance could not afford to underestimate these loyal and fierce protectors. They simply would not stop coming at you until you put a stop to them.

As it were, Lunk, thankfully had the good sense to head northeast and follow the well-worn path which skirted around the Cauldron. It had its own share of problems though and those came in the form of servants of the Twilight Cult; an organisation who, since it was founded,  firmly believed in the apocalypse.  Followers on all levels still adhered to their sacrosanct beliefs. I had no doubt the latest developments in Azeroth had had them all twitching with excitement. The Void, by what I had overheard in the past few days had near delivered the Twilight's dearest wish.

Bizarrely, as we passed, they seemed indifferent to begin with. Until one of them challenged us, or rather, specifically Lunk.

     "Yuh betta be one of de broderhood, mon?" the female said as she stepped out from just inside the mouth of a cave. She was odd looking, to say the least, but there was an underlying beauty too. Her skin bore a soft blue tone on which markings looked more embossed than etched. 

Lunk's small eyes flitted to her and then, with a grunt, he looked straight ahead again. I sat on his shoulder, warily eyeing the woman and others close by whose interest seemed piqued now she had drawn attention to us.

     "What's wrang wid yuh, ogre?" she moved towards us a little faster. Her stooped posture, slender frame and long arms made her somewhat lanky. She seemed to almost crouch as she walked and yet she maintained a certain poise that was hard to look away from. This, it dawned on me, was a troll. She levelled with us then drew to a halt in front of Lunk. Her yellow eyes travelled up his full height, although, if standing straight, she herself, would have been almost seven feet tall. "Yuh be of Cho'gall's blood. Him ah fi wi leada," she said, tilting her head as she studied his face.

     "Lunk follows no-one," my ogre friend said. "Least of all Cho'gall."

The troll hissed. "Yuh a ah traitor to fi yuh own kine?"

I could not fully understand what she was saying but I managed to grasp the general gist of it. As such, this was when I truly hoped Lunk was as dim as he came across most of the time. I soon found out he could be dimmer.

     "As are you to yours," Lunk said, a little aggressively.

The troll was incensed at his accusation and with a wave of her hand she cast a fire totem to the side of us. It spat out small jets of fire that aimed at Lunk's ample legs. 

He roared out as the heat buried into his skin. He tried to stamp out the totem, but the troll just placed a second one, cackling as she did so. I flapped my wings and cawed loudly, trying to stay in place on his shoulder as the fire jets caused him to dance around in an attempt to avoid the missiles. 

It was then the troll noticed me. She shrieked louder, obviously amused at the jiggling ogre and frantic bird before her. It was with great restraint that I decided to face the first totem instead of her as I screeched out a frost bolt. The totem was snuffed out instantly. The troll's face was a mask of disbelief. I turned to hit at the second totem and repeated my frosty utterance.

     "No!" the troll cried out. "Yuh a ah demon, raven!" She made to conjure more totems, but a deep voice from behind us stopped her. "Yaala!"

Lunk stumbled somewhat as he turned to face the individual who had halted the assault. Another Twilight Cultist going by the garb he wore, but this one was no troll. Half bull, half humanoid I registered this was a Tauren. It was an inappropriate time perhaps, but I could not help feeling elated that I was recognising these different peoples. 

The Tauren stopped a few feet away. His eyes scoured Lunk's physique, checking, I took it, for signs of injury. I glanced down to make my own diagnosis. He was fortunate the fire jets had had not buried deep into his flesh, and although I had no doubt the burns were painful, they were a lot less severe than they could have been. I turned my eyes back to the Tauren. He was watching me with interest.

     "De ogre, him ah traitor, an him insulted mi," Yaala protested.

The Tauren did not look away from me but he conversed with Yaala. "To be a traitor, Yaala, one must first be a loyal follower. He is neither. As for insulting you, learn not to let name-calling upset you, certainly not to the point of foolishness."

     "But Muattai, dat bud, him ah demon and..."

     "I saw what it did." At that, the Tauren looked at the troll for a long time as if daring her to continue. She shook her head, then with a dismissive wave of her hand, she returned to her post within the cave, muttering under her breath.

     " _Do not utter a word, except what I tell you,"_  I thought to Lunk. " _And do not answer me, just grunt that you understand."_

Lunk turned his head to look at me. I eyed him from the side. He grunted, then faced Muattai.

     "You should get to Thorium Point and have those burns tended to," the Tauren said in a quiet, low voice.

    " _Ask him why he helped us."_  I instructed.

     "Why you help?" Lunk said.

Muattai stepped a little closer, his eyes once more resting on me. "I left my homeland many years ago and chose to walk the path I do now," he explained. "But, some old beliefs still reside within me."

_"That still does not explain why you helped us."_  I coaxed Lunk. The ogre obliged.

The Tauren glanced over his shoulder as if to check who was in earshot, before turning his attention back to us. Again, his eyes rested upon me as he spoke. "I know not who you are, but from what I witnessed, I do know you are not what you seem. Whether you are a spirit or some cognizant being trapped in this form,  I sense your survival is paramount."

**_Music: EVERYONE'S MEMORY IS SNOW by Phildel_ **

Cognizant being? Trapped? My heart beat a little faster. He was implying I had shape-shifted.  _"Ask what he thinks I might be?"_

     "What is he then?" Lunk asked. Inwardly I sighed. It wasn't quite how I'd phrased the question.

Muattai now looked at Lunk. He snorted. "He is very clever for one thing," he answered. "For he is the one asking the questions is he not?"

     "Yes," Lunk replied without a cue.

The Tauren nodded and smiled as his suspicions were confirmed. He then gestured for us to walk. He fell into step beside us. "I have seen you passing back and forth on many occasions, ogre."

Lunk grunted in response.

     "You have an affinity with the creatures of Searing Gorge.  This raven..." he pointed to me. "... is proof of that. It is a gift I miss from back home."

_"Ask what tribe he belonged to."_  I encouraged Lunk.

     "You have tribe back home?" the ogre asked. Close enough I thought.

Muattai sighed deeply. "I was of the Skychaser tribe, spiritual leaders to the Tauren shamans. That is how I can sense something... _unique_ about your raven." We walked in silence for a while. Then I prompted Lunk to ask another question, one which bordered on effrontery.

     "Are  _you_  a loyal follower of Cho'gall, or traitor?"

The Tauren drew to a halt, the incline to Thorium Point only meters away. Soft laughter rumbled in Muattai's chest. 

He leaned towards Lunk and myself. "Truth be told, I am still deciding on that. Good luck raven. You must do that which we all should do at some point - that is find your way home." Then he turned and ambled back to the Twilight camp.

As I watched his back receding from our view I made a mental note to add to my ever-increasing athenaeum, that not all were what they seemed. Muattai had said that about me, but having listened to his brief consanguinity and tentative allegiance to the Twilight Cult, it was apparent that not everyone we assumed to be on the wrong side, was necessarily so. Although we needed to err on the side of caution at all times, it could also be advantageous to offer the benefit of the doubt on the odd occasion.

Lunk trundled up the incline to Thorium Point where a number of dwarves greeted him amicably and a young priest, who was merely visiting the settlement, tended to the ogre's injuries. 

It looked like the kindness of strangers would always bless Lunk, and rightly so. He was a kind soul himself, attuned to many things which most of us simply did not see, hear or perhaps even want to acknowledge.

I enjoyed the ease with which Lunk communicated with me that night, and I made yet another note to self, that whatever my destiny or reality was, I would not forget this amiable ogre and I would make a point of conversing with him again one day.

 


	10. Dreams or Memories?

**_Music: THE PROMISE - Secret Garden_ **

 

I stood behind a man who was sitting in a dimly lit room, one candle beside him on a small cabinet. He seemed to be busy, concentrating on something. I moved forward a little and saw another figure lying down on a bed to the man's right. It was covered in a soft blanket. Straining for a better look I caught a glimpse of chestnut coloured hair on the pillow before my attention was drawn back to the man.

Tentatively, I continued forward and glanced over his shoulder. I smelled his scent. It was familiar. I liked it. In his lap was a book in which he reverently sketched a face; a beautiful face.  _Her_  face. I noticed some words beside the sketch. I knew those words. Somehow.

**

_Even amidst my private thoughts, dare I admit this woman intrigues me? Again I am in denial, for it is so much more than intrigue which she stirs within me. But, I must put aside such folly, those days are gone and more important matters lie ahead._

_Sweet Elune! And there! In less time than it takes to blink, I negate such words of wisdom. I am inexorably drawn to her. I feel an attraction like no other but regrettably, I know I must set it aside. Perhaps one day, when things are more settled and secure within Azeroth, I may be permitted to know her..._

_**_

Suddenly, he snapped the book shut. Both he and the figure on the bed wavered before my eyes, becoming faint, transparent. Then another image materialised before me.

We were aboard a vessel – a gunship judging by the weaponry and ammunition stacked around the deck.

This time I was in front of the same man. He was tall and looked quite strong unless that was an illusion owed to the armoured leather collar-guard he wore which sat atop his shoulders and upper chest. He had silver hair and piercing eyes the colour of titanium steel. I thought he was quite a handsome man, as men go; strong jaw, a full mouth, a somewhat regal nose. He appeared concerned about something, however, distraught even. His brow furrowed as he looked towards the bow of the ship.

My focus followed his line of sight and I found a woman on the deck. Her, again. She stood, staring straight ahead, her focus on the dark skies; unwavering. The winds whipped her cloak around her and there was an air of resilient determination in her posture.

I glanced back at the man. He had been joined by another male. This one was huge and blue! With horns! My initial surprise then softened as I felt a warm familiarity start to wash over me. I knew him! I knew him well, yet his name escaped me. The silver-haired man knew him too, I could sense it. They were friends.  _Good_ friends. Once again the images faded and opened to another.

The man now sat beside the woman again as she lay on a bed, a sheet barely covering her breasts. There were markings on her skin, green tattoos that fluctuated and flared. The man held her hand, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. His eyes were filled with both sorrow and relief as he gazed at her face...

More mist covered my vision then it cleared to a great battle. Suddenly I saw all sorts of mayhem. The vision was blurred for the most part but I could see the man. He was commanding spell weavers – mages, warlocks, shamans - all around him. 

He cast huge shields over the people who were fighting and he fired frost and arcane bolts upon the enemy – an enormous fiery red demon. The man was learned and powerful I could feel an exorbitant intelligence emanating from him.

His head turned sharply as his eyes searched for something or someone amid all the bodies. I should have known! The woman. She was now hovering in the air, a blinding light pouring from her.

I could feel his panic, his concern ... his  _love_ for her!

Then once more the images vanished in cloudy swirls of water and mist...

**

As my consciousness hurtled towards reality, the last thing I remembered was a small round face and what I thought was the sound of a baby's cry.

I was catapulted into wakefulness and at first, my surroundings were unfamiliar and alarming. I flapped my wings to steady myself. After a few moments, my awareness piqued and I found myself roosting close to where Lunk slept at the back of some covered benches and tables. He turned over in his makeshift bunk, pulling most of his blanket over to one side which left his back exposed. With a grunt, he broke wind.

"Ach, fur goodness sake!" a shrill female voice expostulated. I looked across and saw a female dwarf holding a dustpan loaded with what looked like small rocks. She was glaring at Lunk's back. "He's prootin' again! Ah swear, if he dis it yin mair time, ah'm gonna shove these mithril nuggets right up his..."

"Evonice! That'll be enough!" A dark grey skinned dwarf scolded. He was naked from the waist up, holding a smithing hammer, so it was easy to assume he was the blacksmith. He was scowling at the female, who glowered just as hotly back.

"Well! He  _stinks_!" Evonice protested.

The blacksmith grunted and rolled his shoulders. "Weel, maybe it's yer cookin' that dis it!" I could swear I saw him smirking under his black beard.

"Whit ye tryin' tae say, Burni'?" she retaliated.

"Stop  _ca'in'_ me that!" he said, clearly disgruntled.

"Weel, dinnae be insultin' my culinary skills, or ye'll no be getting' ony  _dessert_ the night!" she sniggered and assumed a haughty posture.

Again the blacksmith grunted and this time shambled to the back of the benches where we were located. "Ah swear, there's mair hot air comes oot hur mooth th'n dis his backside," he grumbled. I watched him jump slightly as she responded loudly.

"At least ma hot air is fragrant,  _honey buns_!"

The grey-skinned dwarf noticeably cringed at her term of endearment. I took it from his reaction he now preferred being called Burni'. He leaned down and nudged Lunk. "Up wi' ye!"

Lunk groaned then once more let the wind go free. I could empathise with Evonice after that one. The female dwarf huffed, grumbled under her breath then proceeded to carry on with tidying up around the benches and tables at the front of the covered area.

"C'mon lad, up ye git!" the blacksmith persisted.

Another groan and Lunk opened his eyes. He slowly sat up, stretching and yawning as if he had slept for decades. I shuddered when I heard his bones cracking and popping as he rounded his shoulders and neck. His hooded lids opened one at a time, revealing surprisingly bright eyes for one just surfacing from sleep. "Good morning, raven," he said and smiled, his bottom tusks almost lost in the facial exercise.

"Huh! Speaks tae the ruddy burd furst, yit he slept in  _ma_  premises!"

Lunk lowered his head for a moment as his smile drooped instantly at the dwarf's words. He looked ashamed. "Sorry, Master Burninate. Thank you, for letting me sleep here, Lunk really appreciates it."

The dwarf was then the one who looked repentant. He scuffed his boot in the dirt then shrugged. "Ach, ah'm only botherin' ye lad. Yer welcome ony time."

The ogre managed what resembled a smile and heaved his body upright. He dutifully folded the blanket he had used and placed it on a low serving shelf of the makeshift storage nearby. I would miss his company, he was a very amiable man with a big heart. His small eyes turned to me, his face a little sad. "So you leaving now?" he asked me.

_"I have to, Lunk. Something Muattai said rings true to me. I must find my way home."_  I conveyed in my thoughts.

He nodded and sat down on one of the benches. It protested under his weight, creaking loudly, but it was sturdy enough to hold him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his heavy set knees. "So where is home?" he asked. From the side, I saw Master Burninate watching us. Judging by his expression, he did not appear to consider the ogre speaking to a raven anything out of the ordinary. I guessed the denizens of Thorium Point and The Iron Summit, if indeed not the entire region of Searing Gorge, were so used to Lunk and his affinity with all creatures, that it did not lead to many raised eyebrows.

_"That's the thing, Lunk, I don't know – yet. Something, however, is calling me to the north."_

He made a deep noise in his chest. "I understand. Lunk will miss raven. You have been good company."

I admit I was rather touched by that and there was certainly some sadness within me as I took to the wing, leaving the compassionate ogre behind.

 

Soaring high, I made my way ever north. There was a pull taking me there. Yet, still, I did not know what it was. As I flew up through Dun Morogh and over the snow-covered landscape, my mind began to cogitate over what the Tauren cultist had said. He firmly believed I was something, or  _someone_ other than a mere raven. I cawed at the term. 

Mere ravens did not cast frost bolts or any other form of magic for that matter. That, combined with the dreams I'd experienced, I had to admit, Muattai's ideology seemed strangely plausible.

 So who or what was I? I had an inkling, a hunch. My dreams  _were_ becoming more vivid and both the wet-eyed woman and the man with silver hair were prominent figures in them. I had felt some thread of connection with this man; an empathy, an understanding, an emotional bond. But was I, he? Who 'he' actually was remained a mystery. 

My logic told me that while humans sometimes dreamed of being animals, it was not assumed so the other way around. I, a raven, could not, therefore, be simply fantasising about being a humanoid. These subconscious images had to be... _memories_. Surely!

I firmly believed that the pull I was feeling to the north, was somehow a keystone to my discovering my real identity. Then another thought crossed my mind. If I was a shape-shifter, then why could I not shift back? What was it which prevented me from doing so?

I scanned the ground beneath me. I had passed over the snow covered hills of Dun Morogh and now I crossed over marshland. Below, I saw a variety of creatures. Ravasaurs, reptiles similar to the diemetradons of Searing Gorge, but these ran on powerful hind legs, their front ones being too small to reach the ground or support their weight even if they could. They roamed the upper plains, hunting small prey and protecting their nests from thieving orcs.

Within the winding rivers and streams, crocolisks also lay in wait for their prey, or meandered near the various little settlements, hoping for an easy meal of who or whatever camped there.

Coastal murlocs slip- slapped their way over the sandy beaches pillaging from the odd wrecks lying just offshore. Their throaty gurgles travelled easily on the warm air as they went about their daily tasks. There was something quite endearing about these little fish-men, even when they charged at you all bug-eyed and gurgling frantically, waving their homemade spears at you.

I bore to the north again, having flown too far west while enjoying quiet observation of the land below. Up over Thandol Span, the once massive bridge engineered by the dwarves. Sadly it was another casualty of the scourge attacks during the third war, but it was still an impressive example of dwarven skill. The crossing took me into the Arathi Highlands. I flew over the area paying little attention to the land, for I felt whatever it was luring me onwards was almost within my sight.

Nonetheless, my stomach informed me that I had to eat. I sensed I was close to where I needed to be, but I was hungry. The aroma of nature's offerings by way of the sea wafted up on the warm draughts and enveloped me. It was too good to refuse. By the position of the sun it was now close to mid-morning, perhaps nearer noon. I turned west as I passed over Dun Garok, the old dwarven fortress which nestled in the south-eastern reaches of Hillsbrad Foothills. I then headed for the coastal town of Southshore.

_**Music: CHRYSALIS by 2002** _

 

 

I felt a sense of melancholy settle over me as I flew down to the old wooden pier. When I landed, another odd sensation flowed through me. I could only describe it as ... nostalgia. This was once a quaint and thriving little town in days gone by. It had been an invaluable source of supplies for those affiliated with the Alliance, in particular during the years when Lordaeron was predominantly a human realm and its Capital City was under the rule of King Terenas Menethil.

Those days, however, were long gone and the land had suffered not only at the hands of the scourge during the third war but also from the plague of the forsaken blight during the cataclysmic rise of Deathwing the Destroyer **.** The township now lay in ruins, its main inhabitants plague-ridden, aggressive gelatinous globules; a foul source of some new, highly volatile, fatal substance which needed to be extracted and stored within specially designed vials.

While I embraced all this information - knowledge, astuteness, whatever you want to call it, I felt like a weight lift from me. It was almost as if each piece of my true identity's puzzle was being uncovered with whatever memories or former knowledge my brain processed. In that moment I fully believed that I had been here before, albeit  _many_  years ago, and in a different form. My  _true_  form.

Logic once more thrust to the fore as I decided I could only be one of two things; a night elf or a human. Admittedly, humans could not ordinarily shape-shift as the elves could, but the dreams I had been having strongly suggested I was of the latter species. I looked to the north-west. There was something over those hills which sang to me, enticed me, seduced me. Perhaps it would reveal all.

I ruffled my feathers and did a quick spot check of my secondaries, primaries and tertiaries. Now, I needed sustenance. I hopped over the wooden planks that served as the beaten quay and noticed some small crabs on the adjacent shore. The prospect of killing one of these little guys did not sit well with me, but at this moment in time, it was them, or putrid, bloated corpses of creatures which had fallen ill of the befouled Southshore township.

I skipped a couple of steps then glided over to the neighbouring shore. My feet sank into the soft sand. It was warm and strangely comforting. Small dunes, shaped by the ebbing waters of the azure sea provided an obstacle course for the small crabs that scuttled up the shore. I eyed them carefully.

As I contemplated battering one of the crustaceans, it suddenly dawned on me that I had never actually done such a thing ... ever! Whether as a raven or, I supposed, as a man, I had always been accustomed to having such delicacies already ... well ... dead at the hands (or beak) of another.

This was not going to be an easy task, but I was hungry for I had failed to have breakfast. I tilted my head, watching the crabs sidle their way around the dunes and ripples in the sand. Surely it couldn't be that hard? They were small. One quick peck and that should do it.

Pulling my feet out from the shifting sand I moved closer. One had stopped as my shadow covered it. It stood, pincers drawn, forelegs off the ground, ready for the fight. I stabbed at it. It pinged a few centimetres away. It was still moving, so I hopped forward to try again.

To my surprise it came at me, maniacally snipping its claws at my legs. I was so startled that it had the nerve to challenge something at least four times its size that I stood there, frozen in disbelief.

Until I felt the nip of its pincers that is. I flapped my wings and jumped back. It scuttled towards me again and this time I pecked at it harder. I missed. To my dismay, I noticed from the side that some of its companions were watching the duel and were creeping nearer, pincers at the ready. Again I stabbed at it.

This time my beak came down hard on its shell and the crab was half buried in the sand. The others still came at me but I was trying to determine whether I had been successful or not in pursuit of my lunch.

I froze yet again as an enormous shadow stretched out over the sand. The crabs suddenly scurried away en masse, towards the green of the nearby meadows. A loud, long drawn out hiss sounded from behind me. I stared at the shadow, my eyes grew larger, of that, I am sure, for this was no man, nor beast from the nearby meadows. Another hiss, and slowly I turned to meet what had terrified the little crustaceans.

There, rising at least eight feet was a creature I had never, to my knowledge, had a close encounter with before. Its reptilian body glistened from the water still dripping from its form.

Mainly azure and sea green, the creature's scales had an iridescent quality like the great conches of the deep waters. It had four arms, adorned with armour and trinkets, its taloned hands, weapons in themselves. From the full breasts showing between fronds of seaweed, it was not hard to deduce it was female.

The face that loomed above me was terrifying yet strangely beautiful, hypnotic. A snake-like snout protruded from its ophidian face, rows of sharp teeth hinted at from between its scaled lips.

Eyes, red with vertical pupils stared at me with something akin to utter distaste. Its head writhed with serpent-like tendrils which seemed to taste the air in an almost exotic, constant form of dance as a large fin, armed with sharp spikes rippled and ran down from its crown to the centre of its back.

An even greater sense of foreboding and pending doom washed over me as from behind this creature came two more. These ones definitely male, their bodies rippling not only in scales, fins and tendrils but also  _pure_ muscle. They also carried enormous spears.

These were naga.

 


	11. The Lady of the Sea

My eyes sprang open and I felt an overwhelming sense of fear. I quickly surveyed my surroundings. The most alarming thing I discovered was that I was located next to a glassless window with a sea view. An  _under_ sea view!

My eyes blinked rapidly as I watched, in disbelief, shoals of fish swim past my line of sight. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. How was this even possible? I inspected my feathers. They were dry. But everywhere around me, was water!

It was then I realised I was once more a prisoner. Being incarcerated was becoming something of a habit with me. This time, I found myself in a shoddy cage made of driftwood, no less.

The only thing it had going for it was the fact it was roomy. Its base was lined with stones and shells to weigh it down I assumed, and seaweed; a slippery kelp on which my claws struggled to grip without it coating my feet in a slimy, gooey substance. It felt quite revolting. I eyed up the spars of twisted, gnarled wood, trying to gauge where the weak spots were. Surely with a decent effort, I would be able to escape this somewhat pitiful prison.

A hiss came from my left. I hopped round to see the female naga staring at me, her red reptilian eyes almost pulsing as her pupils adjusted to the varying light filtering through the wreck. Her face rippled, and as she moved around the cage, her gaze never leaving me, I saw her entire form become misshapen, warped, then return to normal and warp again.

I looked around the cage from top to bottom, left to right and then it dawned on me. The cage was encased within a giant air bubble. Her body's reflection on its surface was what I had just witnessed.

With that realisation, however, came the true terror of my predicament. To try and escape this would mean my demise. If I burst that bubble I would not be able to breathe, and as I was no doubt quite deeply submerged I would drown for sure before reaching the surface.

At this point, I sorely wished I had eaten a bloated corpse floating next to the pier at Southshore instead of trying to snare fresh crab.

She circled twice more before coming to a stop in front of me. Although the bubble still distorted my view of things, with the cage suspended from a hook in the ceiling, I was able to get a better look at her.

I noted she was not as tall as she was on land, having lowered herself on her ophidian tail. Closer inspection informed me that facially she was not quite as snakelike as I had first thought either. Although yes, her nose and mouth did bare the semblance of a serpent, I could still make out some characteristic elven features. Her neck, cheeks and forehead were covered in small iridescent scales, but they did not detract from the beauty she had once been. The eyes nevertheless, were undoubtedly naga and fierce.

"Atijshaz ni who sha what ti are."* She said, tilting her head at me. I hopped back a little in the cage, my feet delving into the slime and slipping down between the stones. She laughed, then circled me again. She spoke in a mixture of Nazja, mother tongue of the naga and the racial languages used by both elves and humans.

Deep in my brain, I knew I had a smattering of Nazja, but it was insufficient to carry a full conversation. I at least got the gist of her question. The problem was, how could I answer? Did she have an affinity with creatures such as Lunk had? I answered telepathically.  _"I am searching to find out those very answers."_

I realised that it was not a method of communication for her when she repeated her question again. This time I gave a series of clicks and caws in response.

She hissed loudly. Even underwater the hiss of these creatures was unnerving, dulled not in the slightest by the watery surroundings. I shrank to the back of the cage, trembling. I felt as helpless now as I did when I was trapped under the stone at the Dark Portal. I could figure no way out of this.

Her scaled lips curled in a smile. "Ni azj Vrasadra, sorceress sha leadzja vash ke Southshore nazja."*

Her softer tone took me by surprise for I had expected her to scream at me in frustration at not understanding my attempts to answer her. Then I watched as she raised her hand in front of the cage.

In her palm, a nacreous orb formed. At first the size of a small pearl, it then grew in circumference and its opaque appearance gave way, becoming more transparent as it expanded. When it covered her hand, it stopped growing. Insane though it was, considering my odds of survival, my curiosity drew to the front of the cage.

Her pupils dilated as I approached then without warning she blew on the orb and it slipped gracefully into the cage, distorting as required in order to enter unbroken, into my bubble. I stumbled back. My wings opened automatically to regain some balance.

The orb seemed to hover in front of me. In its centre, I could see wisps of entwining magic and I could feel their power. I just caught sight of her flexing her fingers before the orb burst and the wisps wound their way around me. I was rooted to the spot, but my heart was hammering. "Do you understand me now?" she asked.

I blinked. The magic translated her tongue? "Y-yes..." I cawed back, but to my utter astonishment, it was not the raw click and screech of an avian creature which sounded from my throat. It was the voice of a man.

"I assumed common language was mossst appropriate for ussss to communicate," she replied in a surprisingly erudite tone. I watched her, in silent awe as she crossed the small room and glanced out one of the windows. She seemed to be looking for something, or someone. After a moment, she returned to my side.

I thought it appropriate to speak at that point. "I understand only a small amount of Nazja. The difficulty was conveying that to you, but your magic has alleviated that problem."

She studied me like a gnomish engineer poured over the schematics for some incredible new invention. I think I swallowed at that point, wondering if indeed my metonymy was accurate, or whether it should have been more akin to a starving worgen looking at a trembling lamb in a pen. Whether she sensed my apprehension or not, I do not know, but she smiled and moved away as if the distance would offer some reassurance that at least she wasn't planning on eating me.

"Now perhapsss, you can answer my question," she said, her webbed fingers treading the water. "What and who are you?"

I tried to get a good purchase on the kelp covered stones before repeating my answer from earlier. "I am searching to find out those very answers."

She slithered back across to me. I did not flinch as she neared this time. "How do I address you?" I ventured, still amazed at hearing my manly voice.

"My name is Vrasadra," she replied.

" _Lady_  Vrasadra? Or  _Highness_?" I knew I was pushing it a bit, but I had to attain her trust. I was at her mercy down there in the shipwreck, it was imperative that she found something likeable enough about me that I would not end my days buried beak first in the bottom of the Great Sea.

She coiled her way around the cage. "Hmm, you have charm, ssso I deduce you are elf of human. I favour elf of courssse, as they are mossst becoming." She spun around, her tortile movements graceful, lithe. "In answer to your inquiry, I am Lady Vrasadra."

"My Lady," I said, and extending my left wing I bowed, inwardly grimacing as my chest brushed the kelp. I thought I executed the delivery with an adequate flourish and from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw confirmation as her face brightened at my act of deference.

"Well," she said, her eyes snapping to their full blood-red colour. "If you are not an elf, you may be the most eloquent human I have ever met."

 

 

I relaxed somewhat on receiving her compliment. Actually, I puffed out my chest a little, sufficiently pleased that I seemed to have swayed a characteristically volatile creature to my favour. How utterly wrong I was.

In a blur I saw her hand sweep up and the next thing I knew my strange confinement was knocked from its location and sinking steadily to the floor of the cabin.

I flapped my wings in panic. As it hit the flooring some of the driftwood spars shattered, but that wasn't the worst of it. My bubble burst. Without it I would drown.

My fear multiplied tenfold as water cascaded down my throat while my wings didn't so much flap as they wafted through the water. I felt acute pain in my chest. I was going to die. Images flitted through my mind. The wet-eyed woman playing a major role in my swansong. I saw her sweet face; laughing, crying, angry... Then the silver-haired man, I saw him on his knees, his shoulders heaving. As he lifted his head I saw through his eyes. He looked up and saw the purple-hued creature I had seen at the Dark Portal.

It was standing over the crumpled form of the wet-eyed woman. The creature stooped and picked the woman up. The silver-haired man's heart clenched. The woman was dead. She had died in the act of saving..." _Illidan_."

I felt myself being scooped up. The naga's face loomed into view and I saw her lips moving but heard nothing other my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Then, just as suddenly as my struggle to breathe started, it finished. I was surrounded by another bubble, this one larger than that which had encased the cage. I staggered on Vrasadra's hand, gulping, hiccoughing, retching. "How do you know him?" she demanded.

I was still trying to catch my breath; the pain in my chest slowly receding. She shook me causing the opalescent air-filled sphere to wobble, transforming her features into a grotesque version of the water-dwelling creature she was. Her face moved closer, her orbs darkening as her pupils dilated almost making her eyes black. "Wh – who?" I managed.

"The one you just ssspoke of. Illidan!"

"Illidan?" I answered weakly. "I do not know ..."

She shook me again. "You lie! Tell me how you know of the Lord of Outland?"

I realised she could snuff me out in an instant if she so wanted, but there was a desperation in her voice.

My next move would either be my saving grace or my folly, but my relentless curiosity made me daring. "Allow me time, I will recall. Pictures, memories I think, of-of a woman, a man and a – a horned creature with wings, invade my mind in growing frequency. I am desperately trying to remember who I am. Perhaps if you tell me about him, it will help me remember more."

"You call him a 'horned creature with wings'?" She laughed, the sound shrill almost manic. "You are trying to deceive me?" she hissed.

"No! I tell you the truth. But..." I swallowed, trying to refrain from gagging as I did so. "I would fare better on land. This is an alien domain for me."

"Yesss, it is, isn't it? But you will stay here until you either answer me or ..."

" _Die_?" I gasped – a tad pathetically, I admit. Her laughter resounded once more. Not quite how I had hoped it would go, but I was in no position to do much about it. As she was a sorceress and we were in her realm, I knew trying to do anything with a frost bolt would also put an end to me. I could feel the power she possessed and a little bird like me was no contest. If I was in my true form, the odds I reckoned would be very much in my favour. For now, however, I had to focus on staying alive.

She placed me on an old table which lay pressed in the corner of the back wall in the cabin. As it rested at an angle it was not an easy task staying upright. The location served more of a prison than the cage had. One wrong move and my air supply would be gone.

"I have no desire to kill you, bird. I  _do_  wish to know who you are though, for I sssense great magic in you." Vrasadra said.

"But – but I thought you wanted to know about Illidan?"

"Yesss." She coiled her way across the room and stood staring out of the window again. After a few moments, she swam back towards me. There was a longing in her eyes; a distant wish. 

 

**_Music: A HERO WILL RISE by Future World Music_ **

 

Her red orbs held me. I was fixated like a mouse staring up at a feline daring it to move so it could pounce and torment it. She surprised me, however.

Her features softened and there was a look of quiet reflection on her face. Her voice softened as she went on to explain. "We evolved from the Highborne. Many of our people were cast to the depthsss of the sea, where the Old Godsss punished us for Queen Azshara's poor judgement call; summoning the Burning Legion to our beautiful land. We were turned into this..." She gestured herself. Sadness laced her words.

Her tail rippled and she swam to the back of the cabin then returned to face me once more. "We were mutated over and over and forced to live in the darkest depthsss of the oceans. After the Well of Eternity was destroyed, those who survived in elven form ventured to these landsss and became known as the high elves; blood elves,  _sind'orei_ , as they are known today."

She watched me keenly, her red eyes flashing as they adjusted to varying shadows within the cabin. She continued with her story. "Their skins paled, losing the lustre of the lilacs, blues and greens of our heritage, as they travelled further from the sssource that was once our power. With them, however, a sssacred vial, holding some of the Well's essence came with them and once more, they thrived upon the forbidden magic. The Sunwell was born and their hunger for the arcane ssseduced them once more."

Whether it was a look of disgust or a deep-rooted longing which crossed her reptilian features I was unsure, but there was no mistaking her lingering empathy for her people. "They had not learned from the highborne's passst mistakes and once more they blindly opened the door for the Legion."

The exculpation in her next words was also crystal clear. "Othersss such as Illidan who remained in the ruined continent of Kalimdor became night elves, focusing more on nature and the druidic way of life. He, however, was ssso much more than those who followed the Emerald Dream. He was still fundamentally, a highborne, but ssstronger than any who had preceded him. He cared not for the night elves infatuation with nature. He was ssstill lured by the ancient ways. Yet, he had seen first hand what the Legion had planned for this world and that was when he was _truly_ born."

I listened intently it was not until she paused to look once more out the window that I realised I had been holding my breath. A strange thing indeed for a raven to do. It merely confirmed that I too was more than I seemed. The tale she conveyed was only partially known to me. I had never considered it from a naga's point of view before. As such, it was as if I was hearing the history of the elves for the first time. 

I gulped in air as she continued talking while she stared out across the expanse of the seabed. "It wasss Illidan who called forth many of my people,  _his_ people, pulling them from the depthsss to aid him in vanquishing the Burning Legion. Those willing to right the wrong our  _gracious_  queen unleashed upon the world, answered his call. He has since delivered what he promisssed, and they have remained loyal to his preeminence." 

She returned to the table where I remained transfixed. " So, focusss little bird. Pull  _yourself_ from the depths of your mind."

"I do not know much yet. The images are muddled." I explained.

"Concentrate!"

**_Music: THE EDGE OF DARKNESS by Peter Gundry_ **

 

I felt extremely uncomfortable at this. Most of the images I had seen were of a very personal nature, a bond between the silver-haired man and the wet-eyed woman. So I tried to sift through all those which I could recall and searched my mind for this Illidan she so desperately wanted to hear of. 

I had to admit, as I let my mind work through the images, a sense of familiarity did start to push through. And, I was seeing through another's eyes. I  _was_  the silver-haired man! I saw this purple creature quite clearly then. He was encased in some green hardened substance, and many like him were milling around, securing him.

As I scanned the individuals around me, I saw many races. Dwarf, night elf, worgen, human. Some were wounded, others helped them. We were in an enormous room, which looked more like a cavern. Part of the wall served as a huge window, and on the ledge I saw the wet-eyed woman sitting, toying with some small object in her hand. I started walking towards her.

Then I saw them. Naga. Four of them were moving up the ramp. "They are the Coilskar, loyal to Lord Illidan," someone informed me. I looked to my left to see who had spoken. I knew him. He was like the one encased in green. A demon hunter! _Kayn_.

"Coilskar," I mumbled.

"Yesss?" Vrsadra neared me. For the first time, I saw her forked tongue. A shiver passed over me. Last time I saw one of those so close it belonged to the green drake which tried to eat me as I hid underneath a hut in the Swamp of Sorrows. I glanced up at her eyes and was mightily relieved to see there was no malice any more. "They were the first naga followers of Lord Illidan?"

"Yesss. They still are. Keep focusing."

Other memories started to filter through. Like vines burrowing upwards from a seed buried deep in the earth, links to my past started to merge with my present. My heart started to pound once more. Faces were rushing forward and with them, recognition of who they were. Demon hunters, night elves, blood elves, dwarves, worgen, orcs, humans...Draenei – Ocel! My dearest friend and confidante. Lukha! Ocel's niece, another dear friend. 

And... Distantly I heard a cry. A babe. Then a feeling, an emotion so overwhelming I felt my legs give way. A son? Mine. I had a son! With this knowledge, all memories rushed me at once. The wet-eyed woman. Sarah! My beautiful Sarah. I saw her wrapping her arms around the silver-haired man. Me! I watched as I saw her lips move...I heard her voice! "I love you," she said. "Khadgar."

My wings beat wildly as I tried repeatedly to gain my footing. The bubble burst and my panic went through the roof. Now that I was remembering I did not want to lose the chance to return to my family. Vrsadra quickly conjured another bubble and placed me within it. She picked me up so I was not struggling against the slant of the table to keep balance. After a few moments, I calmed and sat quite still on her palm. "You remember things now?" she asked, a hint of a grin on her reptilian mouth.

"I am called Khadgar!" I replied.

Her mouth split in a rather unnerving smile. "Ahh, trussst!"

"Trust?" I asked, momentarily confused.

"Your name, Khadgar. It means 'trust' in the dwarven tongue."

Once she explained, I recalled that too. "Yes, so I believe."

Without warning, I saw the two male naga appear from behind her, spears at the ready. "Ni azj lady vash ke sea, shi nazja travel north,"* Vrsadra said. She looked down at me. "Time for you to go home, raven." Then, holding me in both of her hands she spun and swam out of the cabin. I watched as the sea floor dropped from my view and the golden light of early evening permeated the water, growing brighter as the naga returned me to the surface.

 

 

*"Atijshaz ni who sha what ti are." – "Tell me who and what you are."

* "Ni azj vrasadra, sorceress sha leadzja vash ke southshore nazja." – "I am Vrasadra, sorceress and leader of the Southshore naga."

* "Ni azj lady vash ke sea, shi nazja travel north." - "I am Lady of the Sea, we naga travel north."


	12. Leylines

 

Vrsadra surfaced north of Southshore amid a small colony of murlocs. Stilted huts made from driftwood and kelp baked hard in the sun provided the little fish-men with shelter. They were quite the little architects really.

I liked these comical creatures for some reason. They were in effect frogs with larger than normal heads which were unmistakeably fish-like as opposed to amphibian. Their throaty-gurgle form of communication was mostly humorous to the ear, although when murlocs turned aggressive, which was a frequent happenstance, their calls became shrill and deafening.

I watched mirthfully, as suddenly bug-eyed and gurgling frantically, they slip-slapped across the sands and vanished into the sea as we moved further up onto the shore.

There was no denying when naga graced the beaches, most life forms vacated the area – fast. Although my hostess had retained some hint of beauty, she was still a daunting creature to behold. As for her guardians, they were quite simply terrifying. Furthermore, if you smelled or looked like fish, you were instantly on the menu for these large sea-dwelling reptiles.

Sitting on Vrsadra's webbed hand, my bubble soon popped in the evening's warm temperature. The coastal breeze, infused with half-eaten rotten fish and steaming seaweed on the shore was a most welcome miscellany to my avian lungs after my underwater air supply. I inhaled deeply, my action being awarded a knowing grin from the lady of the sea.

There was little sound other than the sea lapping the shore and the grinding, shifting sand in the wake of three muscular, ophidian tails. I glanced behind me and saw the winding tracks left by the naga.

My eyes travelled to the murloc metropolis and I saw some of the little scaled heads bobbing on the water's surface, waiting until we were a good distance away before they returned to their tiny beach huts.

"Tell me what you sssaw, Khadgar," Vrsadra said quietly as she drew to a halt. She bent down near some roots which had protruded through the crumbled hillside next to the dunes and encouraged me to perch on one of the limbs.

Her guardians resumed their sentinel duty and stood a few yards ahead of us, their red slitted eyes scanning the beach and open sea.

I shuffled along the root then shook out my feathers, stretching my wings to rid the threat of cramp which was seeping into my muscles. I looked up at the naga.

She rested back against another root, her head tilting as she studied me. The serpentine fronds writhed around her head in a hypnotic dance and her eyes shifted between blood-red and black as she waited for me to respond. No longer unnerved by her presence, I readily told her of the place I had seen in my head.

As I voiced the details, more information came to the fore. Before I realised, I spouted everything forth explaining how we rescued the great demon hunter and fought alongside him and his allies to bring down Sargeras.

Whether my words made sense to her or not, I was past caring, they just tumbled from my mouth in the constant torrent of memories that were flooding my mind.

Newer images were then triggered. I could not hide the jubilation that I was a father. My Sarah had bore me a beautiful son – so perfect, so innocent, so ... out of my reach. But I was going to find my way home. Wherever home was -  _that_ still remained strangely veiled for the time being.

I charged on with relating the threat of the Void and the near obliteration of all that we knew. Again I reiterated Illidan's role in it, along with Sarah's and all the heroes who joined us to fight against the destructive lords of shadow. I also recalled the spirits who saved us from Armageddon and the blessing of the Naaru.

Eventually, I stopped, feeling oddly light as if a huge weight had been lifted from me. I was also feeling terribly exhausted.

I eyed Vrsadra from the side. Her scales shimmered slightly as she breathed in deeply. It was then I realised that dusk had descended, the first few stars just becoming visible in the indigo sky. "My apologies," I uttered, shifting on the tree root.

Her laughter was more of the characteristic hiss of the naga than the soft lyrical sound of the elves. "For what do you apologissse, little bird-man?"

I flexed my feathers.  _Little bird-man_? Her terminology made me inwardly smile. "For droning on for so long. I did not realise it was getting so late."

She coiled her tail around and shifted slightly against the roots that served as our seating. "I have found your tale mossst enlightening," she said. "But, there are still missing piecesss of the puzzle."

I looked askance at her. "Such as?"

" _Who_ you are."

"I am Khadgar, I'm a mage. And I'm a father!" My contours fluffed out with pride.

Vrsadra smiled – I think. "Congratulations on your son. But, hmm, a mage? Isss that  _all_?"

I was not sure what she was implying. I had seen myself as a mage. A good one I think and one who seemed to lead others in the construct of spells but what else she meant escaped me.

She rose to her land height, all eight feet of her as she poised on her tail. Leaning down she beckoned for me to alight on her arm. I was reluctant. I did not want to return to the depths of the Great Sea, air bubble or not.

She laughed again. "Worry not Khadgar, I merely wish to take you further north. For there is a place there which will help you unlock the last of your memories."

"You read my mind," I said, a little ashamed I had instantly thought negatively of her.

"No, merely your hesitancy." She moved towards the lapping waves, her guardians in close pursuit. "Know thisss however, once I deliver you there, the spell that makes you communicate as a man will no longer be viable. You will revert to your raven clicks."

With that news came the realisation that I was indeed still just a raven. Somehow, my human voice had made me overlook that small fact. At that moment, I felt all the jubilation of my recent recollections ebb away from me.

How was I meant to find and tell my Sarah who I was? How could I even hope to hold my son? The tightness in my chest was becoming painful, like a frightening prelude to a spasmodic, crushing assault on my person. So that was what I had been feeling whenever I thought of the wet-eyed woman; Sarah. A longing for what once had been. An all-consuming love which had made me complete. And I ached for that now.

Understanding it made it no easier to bear. If anything it had intensified the pain, for I knew not how to shift out of my avian form. Something which must have at one time, been an easy enough transformation for me.

As we moved swiftly in a westerly direction, at one point I did manage to find a smote of humour. I thought how odd it must have looked to any spectators who caught sight of us; a bird riding high on the shoulder of a naga, cruising over the waves. It was a brief whimsy, however, for my desperate situation had hit home and was drowning me in a shroud of destitution.

Vrsadra finally turned in towards land. In the gloom, I could just make out a small mountain range rising above us. The sudden unmistakeable sensation of rippling static in my plumage informed me I was near a source of potent magic. I was strangely comforted by it. She came to a halt in a small pebbled clearing at the base of the cliffs. "Here is where I mussst leave you," she said. "You should rest now before continuing north."

"Do you know what lies beyond these mountains?" I asked.

"Yesss, I do. A power which seduces elf and human alike, Khadgar. The root of your being, so-to-speak."

"Tell me! It is not something which has made itself known to me yet."

She shook her head, "You will find out soon enough, Khadgar." She lowered herself and slithered over to an outcrop of boulders where she gently deposited me. 

She stared at me for a few moments before speaking again. "When you meet with Illidan again, tell him about me pleassse. Should he ever have need of more forcesss, we shall willingly lend our support."

"I wish I had your faith Lady Vrsadra, for I do not know how that will even be possible," I replied, somewhat despondant.

I jumped as she unexpectedly did what Alarii had done; stroked my chest. "You will see him again, of that I am certain," she said quietly. "You sssee, I have heard of the great Khadgar. You are ssso much more than a mere magus..."

"You  _know_  who I am?  _What_  I am?" I stammered. This revelation had me stunned.

She merely smiled in her inimitable, reptilian way and continued as if I had not even spoken. "The place north from here will unlock all the remaining mystery for you Khadgar, of that, I am alssso certain."

"But how do you know such..." I started.

 

 

     "I consider myself primarily a high elf, for all my appearance would suggest otherwise," she offered in way of responding to my unfinished question. "We are attuned to much of life's mysteries and her latent powers. Plusss, much news drifts through the currents of the seas."

Her red eyes watched my reaction with a degree of supremacy. "Humans, my little bird-man, are still relatively new to thisss world and although  _you_ , in particular, harnessss much power and possess a fairly efficaciousss knowledge of the most sacred magic, still you are but a novice in such matters. But, all is not lost, Khadgar."

Her last sentence struck a chord with me, although the key was still elusive.

"Rest and tomorrow, find your way. I will remain close by and keep you safe while you sssleep. Now, slumber ..."

My eyes started to close.

"Sleep. Arch ..."

I tried to focus on what she was saying, but I was rapidly slipping into the land of dreams.

" Of the Kirin ..."

   ** _Music: LEAVING EARTH by Seven Lions_**

 

A gust of wind startled me from my sleep, causing me to scramble upon the boulder as I tried to maintain my balance.

Raindrops splatted on the pebbles and rocks in front of me, their stains spreading, reaching out to each other. I looked skyward. It was going to be a dark day judging by the clouds and the increased precipitation.

I scanned the beach and then I saw them. Vrsadra and her two guardians were just offshore. I shouted goodbye and was greatly disappointed to hear my avian clicks and caws had replaced my human voice.

The Lady of the Sea waved her farewell and then all three dived beneath the waves. I was almost sorry to see her go.

I ruffled my feathers. The rain was light at least, but it would still drain my energy if I flew in it for too long. My best option was to find good shelter and wait it out. 

I took to the wing and climbed against the rain to clear the mountains. Thankfully, the range was indeed small and the ground soon opened to green meadows and small grassy tors.

My flight was suddenly jarred as the sensation of static rippled through my feathers again. This time it was more vigorous, less intermittent.

I had no choice but to descend and hopefully find shelter soon. The uncompromising pull of this force, however, was persistent.

I coasted down and glided over the countryside. My body now felt a deep thrum, it was like I was being summoned by something, and that something was ancient and steeped in power.

Then I saw it. Instantly I realised what had been drawing me. It was the site where I had spent a good deal of my youth learning the disciplines of the arcane and other magics. 

Now just a huge crater in the land bordering the Alterac Mountains and sitting at the edge of Lordamere Lake, it looked bleak. But this was once home to the city of Dalaran before it was uprooted to go to Northrend as an offer of aid to those brave individuals who stood against the Lich King.

The base of the crater and its edges nonetheless were still home to the very source which made the human magi construct Dalaran there in the first place. Leylines.

This was where many alignments of landforms threaded their way from all across Azeroth to converge into one of the most potent sites for those with an affinity for magic. In due course, it became the most prominent community of like-minded individuals and home to the Kirin Tor with its Council of Six.

I can only allegorize what happened to me after as a stone plummeting through the air at an alarming rate. My ability to fly seemed ripped from me and my body thundered down the last few yards before skidding to a halt at the base of the pulsing, humming, purple channels.

Normally, such a collision would have either rendered me unconscious or at best, stunned, but in this instance, I was infused with the latent power of the leylines. I felt as though I was magnetised, pinned to the earth. My wings were spread to their full span, my tail, chest and neck flat against the ground.

The deep-bedded vibration, like a generator beneath the soil surface, intensified and in its wake, memories long since locked away in my mind tumbled to the fore.

I was a boy and I relived the moment my parents handed me over to the magi in Dalaran. It was meant to be a great honour for a child to be accepted into the clutches of these men and women of power. 

To a boy of six years of age, however, I interpreted it as a punishment. Quite what I had done to deserve this sentence I knew not, and for all my mother tried to reassure me I had done no wrong, I still felt guilty and my eyes welled up as I watched my parents turn and walk away.

_That_ was a feeling I had locked away in the darkest reaches of my mind; I had not wanted to feel that again.

I saw my first few weeks at Dalaran unfold. I was rebellious, to begin with, refusing to do as I was told, demanding they return me home. But, being one of seventeen children had basically secured my fate.

My older siblings were already making a path for themselves in the world, while I had seemed aimless, lost and those younger than me had already become a handful draining my parents' resources and energy. 

A harsh reality check indeed, but it felt like I was surplus to requirement and so I had been brought to Dalaran to train as a mage. Soon enough the magi had me under their tutelage and abiding by their rules.

The images flicked through my mind's eye at an ever-increasing rate. Within a few short years, I had become studious, focused, hungry for knowledge.

I found myself being named the Guardian Novitiate at the tender age of eleven, the immensity of such a title a prelude to the greatest responsibility of all – Guardian of Azeroth. I was being trained to succeed Medivh; the man himself having not been officially introduced to me at that point.

As time progressed I decided I did not possess the appropriate appetence for such a lofty role. I started to feel restricted in the teachings at the Kirin Tor. I was becoming disgruntled with their rules, regulations, restrictions and in my opinion their lack of vision. I left at the age of seventeen to make and find my own way in the world.

Oddly enough, it led me to Anduin Lothar and eventually the reclusive Medivh himself, during the start of the First War when the orcs invaded Azeroth.

Initially, the Guardian's apparent distaste for me was no secret and trying to glean knowledge from him was like trying to get blood from a stone.

Gradually, however, he seemed to come round and I was thrown snippets of information like a hungry dog was thrown scraps from the butcher's table. I was set the task of cleaning the extensive library and cataloguing everything within. It did, in turn, provide me with an encyclopedic knowledge of thaumaturgy - and fed a hunger in me which (still) has never been truly sated. I devoured script after script, tome after tome, making detailed notes for personal use, as I worked.

Eventually, however, my relentless curiosity led me to a particular discovery. 

For the most part, I had considered my mentor to be somewhat eccentric. He was often mumbling to himself – not like I did when trying to work out some spell and its various elements. No, Medivh seemed to carry out regular conversations with – someone –  _something_. 

Over time, I watched with growing sadness as this man, the Guardian, whom I was to be tutored by, had not simply been driven mad by his genius, or responsibility or even his loneliness; he was possessed. Dark, dark forces had claimed him from when he was in his mother's womb.

My destiny, it turned out, had been to crush the Guardian and his most unwelcome and destructive "conscience"; Sargeras. In doing so it was not only my tutelage with Medihv that was lost but also my youth. The act of murdering my mentor, my friend, as he had eventually become, aged me considerably beyond my teenage years.

I was cursed. Plagued with what I had done even though it had been necessary, my true journey had just begun. With gradual acceptance of my fate, a new more voracious, determination rose within me and this led me, amongst other things, to close the Dark Portal - blocking the doorway from Draenor to Azeroth.

An act as it turned out, to have only a temporary effect. The way was re-opened once more and battles ensued against orc, the new horde, the Iron Horde and the ever-present threat of the Burning Legion. Not forgetting more recently - The Void.

My mind was torn from the reverie, and my focus shifted. It was akin to the flipping of pages, their crisp sound almost purring as they raced through the decades.

The thrumming of the leylines continued. My part in the history of Azeroth moved swiftly forward, right up to the "final" destruction of the Dark Portal. The last time I saw Sarah while I was still a man; when I was still - Archmage Khadgar of the Kirin Tor.

Silence. It was brutal. My head was pounding from its intensity; my ears felt near to bursting. The sudden quiet was more thunderous than the intense deep thrum of the leylines moments before. I felt nauseous.

Distantly, I heard the panicked beat of my heart breaking through the quiet.

The final pieces of the puzzle were now in place. I now knew exactly who and what I was and that which would be required to make me whole once more.

I only prayed that the clues I had left behind had been discovered. And I desperately hoped the one I knew who could carry out my instructions, would be willing to do so.


	13. Masters and Pioneers

 

Dazed, with my heart still beating wildly, I slowly pulled in my wings, pushing myself up from the damp, vibrating soil. I had felt a moment of euphoria which was soon overshadowed by a tight, agonising ball of apprehension as I pondered my predicament. 

The fog covering my mind and vision lifted completely and with my view of things now being crystal clear, the disheartening possibility that 'all was  _indeed_  lost' settled over me. Something was gnawing at me and I did not know at that point whether it was merely elusive, or if I was in denial. Whatever, there was definitely an ominous feeling surrounding me.

Having said that, I believed I remembered everything important now. I had planned ahead, but if my clues had not been discovered, which, considering my present condition looked highly likely, then I was doomed to remain in my raven form. I prayed this was not the case. I could not afford to think so negatively. " _Please Sarah,"_ I thought _, "Please have read the book I left for you."_

A loud grinding, whirring noise broke through the air. It was an engine. I looked up. Through the clouds and rain, the nose of a horde zeppelin pierced the sky. From the insignia on the masts, I could tell it was no ordinary zeppelin. 

The Phoenix of Silvermoon symbolised it was transporting someone of high importance. I shook my head again and tried to get my bearings. After a few moments as the enormous hull swept overhead, I figured out it was flying south. Perhaps it was making its way to Grom'gol in Stranglethorn, the only other horde zeppelin base after Undercity.

South was the direction I needed to go and as things were at that moment, I was weakened from my experience in the crater. I decided to make a bold move and hitch a ride. The craft had almost cleared the crater so I took flight and chased after it. As I closed in, the turbulence from the propellers buffeted me so I ascended until I was level with the top of the gondola. I was able to land without too much difficulty on the deck from that point.

I was awarded a glance from the deckhands going about their duties, but otherwise, I was of no interest to them, I was, after all,  just a raven.  I alighted the roof of the gondola which allowed me a better view of my transportation. The crew, primarily blood elves, and a couple of orcs, busied themselves with securing the moor-lines and cargo strapped tightly in place. The ones in charge of driving the craft, however, were goblins - their long drawn-out twang shouting orders, clearly heard above the engines.

Six Silvermoon Guardians appeared from below deck and stood silently abreast the cabin entrance. Other voices drifted up from below, muffled at first but becoming clearer as three more individuals ascended the stairs.

Long platinum hair,  gathered up in a high knot, appeared first from the stairwell. From the stately burnished armour and regal gait of this individual, it was not hard to guess who he was. His two advisers followed closely behind, confirming my conjecture; one a Grand Magister the other a Ranger-General. Inwardly, I smiled.  I had hitched a lift on Lor'themar Theron's royal zeppelin. 

As I watched him strolling around the deck along with Grand Magister Rommath and Ranger General Halduron Brightwing, they muttered quietly amongst themselves, oblivious of my avain eyes. 

Now and again a deckhand would awkwardly dodge the three men, apologising profusely as he went about his business on board the transport. A mere dismissive gesture from the Regent Lord let them know they were not considered a nuisance nor should they apologise for doing their job. 

It was not long before the men returned to the top of the stairwell. There, they paused and looked south, the direction the zeppelin was travelling.

 

     "It will be a stately affair," Rommath said, standing with his arms crossed.

The Regent Lord nodded soberly and muttered a deep acquiescence in his throat. I inched forward on top of the cabin roof, my curiosity once more getting the better of me. To what were they referring, I wondered.

     "It will also be an historic occasion in that both Horde and Alliance will unite to show their respect to the man." Halduron added.

Lor'themar turned to face his companions. I noted how little he had changed in the years since I had first met him. Considering all that had happened to him since the Second War, it was quite astounding how young he still looked. 

His eyepatch served a constant reminder of the battle against the scourge and Arthas as they razed Silvermoon and her hamlets to the ground almost extinguishing the high elven race of Quel'thalas.  Now he stood, still every bit the refined leader of the Sin'dorei.  

A role which, I had been led to believe, he had not favoured accepting, yet he had admirably administered the post, shouldering the burden and responsibilities that came with it and had been duly awarded the respect of his people. 

Some argued that he, not Sylvanas, should have been elected Warchief following Vol'jin's demise.  I had to admit, the question had even crossed my own mind. 

The Regent Lord took a deep breath before speaking with his advisers. "Yes. In life, he was a great man. He will be sorely missed by ..." He toyed with his goatee, "...  _thousands_ , if not more. He has been instrumental in so many diplomatic missions and was also a great warrior, defending Azeroth and her people to the end."

Obviously, someone had died. I felt a shiver run down my spine for all they had not mentioned a name.  

     "And you are sure that the Alliance will not break this amnesty?" Halduron voiced quietly.

The look on Lor'themar's face was stern. "Amnesty?" He scoffed. "It was not  _I_  who ordered we turn our backs on them at the Broken Shore." His voice had an edge to it. There was a bitterness underneath and I could hazard a guess what lay at its root. He then sighed heavily, as if resigning himself to the way things had turned out. After a moment, he continued.  "I believe they will keep their word, yes. This is too important and tragic to allow old feuds to flare and disrupt the proceedings. We shall, however, leave immediately after the funeral rites are concluded."

Then they descended the stairs and disappeared below deck again. I ruffled my feathers, quite miffed that I had not discovered to whom they were going to pay tribute. I could have of course, waded through my knowledge banks and attempted to deduce who it was, but that seemed a pointless task. In hindsight, my evasion of the subject had been a subconscious effort to refute the truth, and at the time, I was pretty persuasive.  In earnest, I focused more on other matters. By all accounts, this zeppelin was not heading to the horde camp in Stranglethorn as I had first thought. Judging by the small conversation I had just overheard, the Regent Lord was attending the funeral.  A strong hunch also told me to which city they were headed. 

Stormwind.

**_Music: UNOPENED FLOWER by 2002 (Video unavailable)_ **

<https://open.spotify.com/track/12UB4zGfTIgYAtuW8Ang6L>

 

The rain had reduced to mere spit spots, the clouds had thinned and separated. Sun rays spread out through the gloom, reaching out to the land below and turning the world gold. I flew to the port side and sat on the railing, contented, yet a little apprehensive in the knowledge that I was going home.

My memories were now fully restored and with them came a new fear.   I had depended on Sarah finding the journal.  For one thing, she needed to know how I still felt about her - how deeply I loved her.  I also needed her to find the instruction I had written near the end.   I chastised myself.  Of course, she would have discovered it,  but my real concern was that the incantations required would not be carried out by the one individual who I knew would be drawn to the magic and understand its significance.  What if I had alienated him by my intolerable behaviour?

I had been so unlike myself in those final days,  _hours_  even, prior to the Void Lords' attack. Astutely aware that they could alter our thought processes and emotions, it still had not protected me from their influence. I had found the tiniest bit of criticism aimed at the Kirin Tor hugely offensive. Illidan had challenged our abilities to deal with the then pending threat of complete annihilation. Regrettably, my own doubts had fueled my irritation at the demon hunter; his connotations and alternative suggestions having gnawed at my nerves. 

Even though I knew there was no threat to what Sarah and I shared, the bond which had formed between her and Illidan had irked me also.  

Extracting him from The Twisting Nether had cost her dearly. Then when he saved her life afterwards it had altered her in more ways than any of us had foreseen. The memory of my reaction when she had broken the news to me bore an agony like no other.  

Again, the Void Lords had made me unreasonable, unfeeling ... unreachable. Yet, when I spoke with her at the Dark Portal and she told me her greatest curse was to have loved me, somehow, it had pierced the negative shroud which the Lords of Shadow had enveloped me within – albeit for only a few short hours. 

It had been enough for me to ensure I had left the necessary clues for returning me to human form for I had suspected that I would need to transform in order to survive the likely destruction of the Dark Portal.  And I knew the consequences of shifting within a time portal. Therefore, an ancient spell, known as the Thalassian Secret, which some referred to with the phrase "All Is Not Lost", was imperative and with its foundations being steeped in elven history, I knew Illidan would be the one to aid me.  

I found myself depending on that bond which had formed between the demon hunter and Sarah.   

My brain started to hurt as yet another sense of foreboding plagued it. I did not know what to expect when the spell was used. Foolishly, I had merely read about the Thalassian Secret and thought it was simply a case of informing Sarah and Illidan that it needed to be used to bring me back.  But, I had absolutely no understanding of the spell itself.  

I knew many of the words and chants, but that simple knowledge was not enough to consider oneself capable of performing it. I had never attempted to use the spell, nor knew of anyone who had.  Equally, I also had absolutely no idea if anyone who had been subjected to it had actually survived. Would there be pain? Would it take long? How could they possibly know to cast the spell upon  _me_ in the first place, as opposed to just some other random raven? 

A cool breeze ruffled my feathers and, dejected, I hung my head.  Vrsadra had made a valid point indeed. We humans were, after all, mere novices in the art of magic. The elves were justifiably the true spell weavers, sorcerers, wizards whatever you wished to call them. Undeniably, they were the masters of arcane, whether it be used for good, or tempered with darker elements. They were also unsurpassed pioneers in the use of prophylactic and cathartic magic. 

An overwhelming appreciation and respect for the elven races washed over me. Having worked alongside many over the years, been suitably impressed and on many occasion grateful for their assistance, I had never actually stopped and given their assiduousness any true reflection. 

Now, as I sat on the railing of the zeppelin overlooking the world I loved so dearly, I realised I was but a privileged neophyte on Azeroth, still vastly ignorant of all her mysteries and blessings. I had studied hard, been as diligent as any knowledge-hungry student could possibly be, yet for all I had gleaned much and become powerful in my own right, I paled in comparison to the elves. 

Suddenly, I felt very inadequate and completely dependent on my demon hunter friend. If indeed, he still considered me as such.

The zeppelin ascended as we approached mountains. Clouds still hung above the ranges but they were now light and airy, the precipitation had fallen and washed the rocky crags.  A fine sheen reflected off the stone as the sun rays reached out over land. The halituous wisps parted opening the way as the enormous craft cleared the peaks.

My heart beat faster. A tall cathedral spire came into view, then the clean white and sand-coloured stone of the city's buildings greeted me. My avian eyes drank in the beauty that was Stormwind. Her majestic turrets, towers, rooftops, cobbled streets and stunning landscaped gardens opened before us. I noted a new statue had been erected in the recently restored gardens off Cathedral Square, its subject a closely guarded secret it seemed, hidden by a heavy tarpaulin.

The zeppelin started its descent, venturing above the city rooftops before turning slowly and heading back towards the keep. Atop the royal residence, blue Alliance standards emblazoned with the head of a lion were being buffeted in the breeze. 

On the uppermost balcony, I could make out two figures looking up, hands shielding their eyes against the sun. King Varian and Prince Anduin. I felt happy at seeing them both and that they stood waiting to greet the visitors from the north. Off to their left was a built-up platform on the central tower. This must have been specially constructed for the regal visitors from Quel'thalas to disembark.

As the craft came into moor, Varian and Anduin, escorted by the Royal Guard, arrived at the base of the stairs to greet Lor'themar and his advisors.

The Silvermoon City Guardians approached the gangplank first as the goblins ordered the moor-lines secured. Closely followed by his two advisors, The Regent Lord then stepped up from the cabin. His ponytail carried on the breeze as he strode confidently towards the edge of the transport.

My perpetual curiosity made me fly down to one of the low walls that edged the tower. I wanted to hear this momentous greeting.

Both regal figures met and each bowed graciously. "Welcome, Regent Lord," Varian said.

The blood elf towered above the king of Stormwind, as all elves did, but he did not take advantage of his hereditary gene. Instead, he inclined his head and spoke in a most soft and sincere tone. "I speak for all Sin'dorei when I humbly convey our most heartfelt condolences on the loss of such a meritorious and indeed kind individual." 

  Varian's breath noticeably hitched and he momentarily lowered his head.   

I could feel my neck stretching in their direction. Who was it who had passed away? I had noticed there seemed to be much pomp and circumstance in the city as we had arrived, so I knew it was someone of great importance indeed.  But who?

     "Thank you for your sentiment, Regent Lord."

Lor'themar shrugged, then with his hands behind his back, he spoke again. "Please, call me Lor'themar."

Varian nodded compliance. "We shall dismiss with titles then Lor'themar, especially in light of present circumstances."

     "That is fitting. If I may enquire, how is his family faring?"

Varian shifted from one foot to the other before answering. "I have not yet seen them, but my sources inform me that they are as well as can be expected. I did not realise you knew them." The king gestured for Lor'themar and his entourage to follow him inside. I hopped along the wall, trying to stay close enough to listen in on the conversation.

     "I didn't," Lor'themar replied as he fell into step beside the king.  "Although I met  _him_  a few years ago, albeit briefly and I found his conversation most stimulating. I have, however, found out recently that they knew my sister."

This was news to me, I was not aware of the Regent Lord's family.

     "Ah, I see. Forgive me, for I did not know you had a sister nor that they were acquainted."

I was not the only one who was ignorant of the Theron family then. From the side, I saw Lor'themar's mouth twitch. He sighed heavily. "They perhaps were unaware themselves, for she had been in the service of Illidan Stormrage."

I almost slipped from the wall. Had I heard correctly? His sister had turned demon hunter? My mind rushed through those we had been particularly conversant with, but only two came to mind.

     "And what is your sister's name?" Varian asked.

     "Tiene. Tiene Firefury. I am not blood-related but her family became my own. Sadly, she passed away a few months ago," Lor'themar concluded. 

Tiene? I drew to an abrupt halt.  My mind was suddenly blasted with the image of Tiene and a male blood elf,  at the Dark Portal. They were the two spirits Illidan and Sarah had brought forth from Drew and a red-haired woman. 

My blood started to run cold as my mind then formed another, very distressing line of thought. Varian,  Anduin and their guests were almost at the door which led the way down from the tower. I started after them again, taking flight this time and hovering above their heads.

     "Forgive me," Varian said to the Regent Lord. "I did not know."

     "Thank you. We preferred privacy, however, and so few actually knew."

Varian gestured to the door. I was starting to panic – my brain formulating all manner of things and I needed to know if the dread which was spreading through me was substantiated or irrational. My quandary was then answered when Varian next spoke. "I believe Sarah was very fond of Tiene. I do not know whether she herself is aware of her passing, but I shall not speak of it for now. I am sure you understand," Varian said. Lor'themar nodded. "It will be hard enough for her today, with the funeral for Khadgar."

My panicked cawing made the whole party glance up for a few moments. My denial was no longer effective.  Deep down I had known, but I had dared to hope that somehow, the dead Archmage Umrii and Konrad had referred to back in Searing Gorge, was someone other than myself, though such cowardice was both deplorable and shameful. I watched, utterly distraught as they vanished through the doorway. 

My screeching and clicking continued as I swooped and dived in confusion.  The words "Caagaw! Caagaw!" ran through my head, accompanied by the images of Sarah crying uncontrollably at the ruined portal.  She had understandably thought me dead when it collapsed. Unfortunately, that belief had continued.

My earlier fear had just been authenticated. Sarah had not found the journal after all, even though I had left it in plain sight.  I knew in my heart that had she discovered it, this funeral would not be proceeding.  Had she perhaps, been unable to return to the house; too grief-stricken to step into our home? Was it still lying there, undiscovered on my desk? I had not prepared for that.   

Amid the horrifying realisation that she and the world thought me dead, a staggering torrent of guilt rushed me, devoured me.  Oh, my darling Sarah.  I was  _still_ causing her pain.  

My preternatural world crashed around me, for I could see no way of righting this wrong.  After all, I was simply ... no more.

 


	14. "Be Gone!"

**_Music: CITY OF THE DEAD by Eurielle_ **

It took me several long minutes to sufficiently calm down and land on one of the smaller turrets. Breathing as if it were my last, I ruffled my feathers repeatedly; I must have looked as though I was undergoing a seizure. The toll of bells rang out across the city, startling myriad flocks of birds.  They took to the wing and in a disturbing ballet wove a dark rippling ribbon across the sky; a somewhat bizarre prognostication of my own funeral.

I had to focus, bring my thinking, logic and practicality back in line. Gradually, my breathing slowed and heart steadied. So, at worst Sarah had not found the journal.  At best, (and this was being truly optimistic if not ridiculously foolish), she had, but just not reached the part with the instruction for Illidan. Either way, the world thought me dead.  _Hardly encouraging_ , I mused.

I needed to find out if the book still lay within my study.  If it did, I had to try and deduce how to bring it to Sarah's attention. Perhaps, as I had considered before, she had been unable to enter our home because of her grief. 

If that was the case she had to be staying with friends. Erik, maybe? With Gwen there, it was a possibility, but still, I didn't think it would be Sarah's preference. I doubted very much she would stay at either the Felhammer or Suramar with Illidan and Arcaena, both locations were too unfamiliar for her.  

My heart suddenly contracted as I thought of our son. Still so young, so new, so innocent.  Now that his mother had to contend with grief, then it only made sense that she would go to the person she had become so close to since her first time in Azeroth. Lukha.

I recalled how Sarah reacted when she spotted me at the Dark Portal flying above the carnage. Now I realised she had so desperately wished the raven to be me, but at the time I could not fathom her disquietude. I tried to weigh up how she would react now if I appeared at the window or on a garden wall near her. Would it cause her anxiety? Distress? Give her hope? Or, would she merely look at me like she would any other bird, or even through me, as if I were a ghost. 

I had to somehow reach her, make her recognize me. But how? Then I remembered Alarii and her book of sketches. Perhaps I could attempt the same tactics – then again, the journal was securely bound, not made up of loose pages like Alarii's sketchbook.

I had to know nonetheless; was the journal in my study? Undiscovered, unread, still waiting for her to find it? I had no idea what to do if my fears were realised, but I needed to know the state of play at this moment. I took to the wing and soared above the keep. I made a few circuits before finalizing my path and then I headed towards Cathedral Square, where our home lay. 

As I made my way, a woeful concoction of human emotions and fears enveloped me – sadness, longing, cynicism, despair all at war with the practical, logical and mostly optimistic self that was once me. I tried my best to rationalize everything, to be encouraged, confident but when I settled on that window sill and saw the book through the glass, exactly where I had left it on my desk, all hope abandoned me. 

Next emotion was anger. An annoyance for not having been able to tell her what I may have to resort to and so lead her to the book. Extreme exacerbation that I was causing her yet more pain. Frustration at not knowing how to effectively make her aware that I was alive. Utter rage that I was going to be attending my own funeral along with my beloved, our son, our friends and going by what I had heard on board the zeppelin an inordinate amount of people who thought, for some reason, that I was important.  I suppose I had been, to some extent, but my deeds had never been intended to win me notoriety. I was merely doing my job. 

One of Sarah's expletives came to mind and I screamed it in my head.  _FUCK!_   It didn't help in the slightest other than fueling my anger. My caws evolved into something more like shrieks and as the fury built within me I felt my feathers prickling, almost sizzling, rippling,  as if infused with all of the elements, tenfold. With no warning, I omitted an almighty screech and blasted the line of clay flowerpots along the edge of the balcony with a forceful jet of frost and fire.

Instantly I stilled. With increasing despondency, I watched as Sarah's little array of spring blossoms curled inwards, crisped and dwindled. Sharp cracks then filled the air and the pots themselves split and fell apart, spewing their contents over the balcony floor. My eyes followed the trail of sifting soil as it spread out, tiny bulbs and stems mixed within – destroyed, burnt. The finishing touch was the cornerstone balustrade and spindle falling away into the courtyard below.  _Could things get any worse?_  I wondered.

I flinched as I heard it meet the cobbles with a dull thud and an angry voice shout up. "Who's up there?"  

All my angst suddenly left me.  The sensation of building hysteria bubbled deep within.  "We're coming up, so whoever you are you better get out of there unless you're wanting trouble!" I recognised that voice. My mood shifted again, giving way to a sliver of hope.

**_Music: ANGEL by R Armando Morabito (ft. Julie Elven)_ **

Drew Stewart. Never was I so pleased to hear his voice, even if it was in a threatening tone. I alighted the railing and waited, staring inside the study window. 

It was somewhat strange to be stuck outside looking in while others entered my home. Oddly comforting too that it was people I trusted and not some vagabond thief, which was relatively common in the city. On a day such as today, more undesirables would no doubt see abundant opportunity in front of them, as the good people of Stormwind said their farewells to a man who was  _not even dead_! I shuddered. My dire predicament left me confounded.

My attention snapped back to the present as I saw the door to the study open. Drew entered the room. To my profound relief, I saw he was carrying Atiesh, my Guardian staff. The image of him recovering it from the Dark Portal briefly crossed my inner vision before I watched him lean the staff carefully against the wall nearest to the window.

Movement behind him drew my attention. A red-haired woman was looking at my desk, lightly touching the documents scattered over it. Panic began to rise in me at the thought she may inadvertently cover the journal I had left there for Sarah to find. Quite why it worried me so now, seemed almost pointless. 

I had not considered the likelihood of it having remained unseen this long by Sarah. Nor that the world of Azeroth would be in the throes of grieving for me.  I had, very prematurely, assumed Sarah would just come home and find the book the first day. On reading it, I had envisioned her finding the note intended for Illidan who would cast the spell to bring me back. I would then be standing here as the man I was supposed to be instead of entrapped within the raven form I now inhabited.  

I had grossly miscalculated the emotions that would have gripped the woman I loved. I had not considered her own grief to have swallowed her whole. After all she had taught me, all the faith and love she had shown me, enabling me to express my own feelings without fear of rejection or ridicule, I should at least have been attuned to the pain of loss that she would have had to endure. If anything, I should have drawn from my own experience in Mardum when I thought she had died after rescuing Illidan from the Twisting Nether - I was lost, wrecked, bereft of feeling.

Perhaps I had believed she was stronger than I, more likely to maintain a practical head when life threw its brutal surprises in her path. Having come from an alien world, she had worked hard to be accepted by those who doubted her, pledging her fealty and demonstrating her devotion to Azeroth and its people. 

She had undergone changes to her person the likes of which few would have even survived let alone accepted. She had been party to some remarkable feats of heroism, working together with us all to defeat the enemies that would destroy all we held dear. Because of all that, I had quite simply lost sight that she was also a woman, with a tender heart which could be broken, leaving her devoid of emotion and, perhaps, the ability to function normally. 

My mind felt like it was being crushed with all these cerebrations. All the analysing, speculation, ruminations. Thrown into the mix of turbulent emotions, the entire situation had gone beyond dire. Things now lay on the borderline between desperation and desolation. The temptation to just fly away and leave all behind was fast becoming a fiercely tenacious possibility. 

I was suddenly aware that  I was being watched. Looking up I met Drew's brown eyes. He stood at the window, hands loosely by his sides, staring at me. His cacographic expression caught me unawares.  

I remained stock still as he undid the latch on the windows and pushed them outwards. He stepped onto the balcony slowly, taking in the broken plant pots and their spilt contents. 

I saw a small smirk play at the corner of his mouth. His gaze then locked on mine. "Boy, is Sarah going to be pissed!" he said quietly. "Don't know how you did it, but the lady of the house will be well annoyed with you."

I clicked my beak in response. Drew raised an eyebrow. I saw a ring-clustered hand come round his arm, then the red-haired woman appeared at his side. She looked at me also, firstly with surprise then her features adopted a melancholy veil.   "Would be nice if it were him, would it not?" she whispered to Drew.

He sighed and clasped her hand. "Yes, I wish it was, for Sarah's sake and Ocel's."

I cawed at the mention of their names. He smiled wistfully. "She looks skyward every day, hoping he will come to her. But  _we_ know the truth, Bernie," he glanced at the woman, patting her hand. Then he turned back to me. "He is gone forever. Now, leave here raven, for you will give her false hope when she comes home. Spare her any more pain."

My heart constricted. Still, I remained where I was. Now, the need to stay was paramount. She still looked for me! Her hope had not died. I could not fly away, I could not leave her. Drew shot forward, stamping his foot as he did so. "Be gone!" he shouted. I was startled into flight. Rising up I circled the balcony.  Looking down I saw Drew watching me as he bent down to pick up a piece of broken pottery. 

Another voice came from within the house then I saw Erik stumble out onto the balcony. Drew pointed skyward muttering something under his breath. Erik's face turned up and I saw him scowl. Drew took aim and launched the pottery missile at me then quickly bent down to collect another. 

I swiftly dodged in mid-air and flew round to the other side of the balcony.  "I said be gone!" he shouted at me. No! I was not going anywhere. I now knew Sarah still had hope and no matter how infinite it was, I was going to stay and somehow ensure she knew it was not in vain.

Drew's second missile missed me too. I was preparing to dodge a third when an excruciating pain erupted just beneath my left wing. I swooped a couple of times, then I felt the air rushing past me as I plummeted down. 

The pain intensified as I crashed down through the apple tree in our garden. I felt and heard something snap, near my wing.  I landed on my back upon one of the broader limbs of the tree, the wind knocked out of me. 

My world was blurry, the leaves and branches merging into a misty concoction of greys, browns and greens, peppered by the soft pink blossoms. 

My head flopped to the side and then I saw it. A broken arrow shaft was protruding from the front of my scapula at the wing joint. That damn dwarf had shot me. I felt the wetness of blood on my chest, its coppery scent rising in the late spring breeze.  

As I felt consciousness slip from me, I inwardly smiled at the irony of it all. Sarah's friends had thought they were doing good warding off a creature which would serve a painful reminder of the man they all mourned, yet in doing so, they may well have made his death a reality, robbing Sarah of a chance of happiness again.

If I somehow survived this, I was going to make sure Erik never forgot the day he nearly killed me. With that last almost amusing thought, blackness swallowed me whole.

 

 


	15. See Me

 

Quite how long I had been unconscious, I did not know. My eyes, initially greeted by the sea of murky greys, browns and greens again, slowly started to focus and my leafy surroundings gradually sharpened.

I didn't dare make any sudden moves. I recalled the injury which had put me there and I also had to take into consideration the extra bruising I would have accumulated on the way down to my present location.

I gingerly turned my head to look at my wing. It was spread wide, my primaries open, hanging over the edge of the broad limb I lay prostrate upon. The arrow had snapped on the way down, both at its head and just below the cresling. The remaining shaft was still considerable. 

I was going to have to extract it and hope that it had not severed either my pectoralis major nor any critical tendons. If it had, then I would lose the ability to fly altogether. With luck, it had merely grazed them or better still simply nicked the thin membranes surrounding them. I was dreading the next move I made, I knew it was going to be painful.

Sweet Elune! I hated being right sometimes.  I omitted a lengthy screech and rapid clicks as I rolled my body weight until I was on my side. My body shuddered with the agony. I panted, biding my time until the pain subsided before I took the shaft in my beak. 

I counted to three then tugged. More pain shot through my wing and I quickly let go, rolling onto my back again, my right wing flinching spasmodically. Although it didn't help me, I now understood why Sarah swore so profusely whenever she hurt herself. 

I particularly recalled her colourful language when giving birth. That somehow  _did_  help. The memory of her determination to see it through without using Brillyn's or her own healing abilities to ease her pain calmed me considerably. Her bravery made me all the more determined to do what was necessary, and survive. 

I gathered my thoughts and focused on all that I had. I swerved over and grabbed the shaft once more. This time I did not let go and although my entire body trembled with the effort, I kept going until the missile was removed entirely. Panting once more, the piece of wood slipped from my beak and fell onto the soft lawn below. The exertion, however, had drained me and once more my mind closed down as I slipped into dark oblivion.

I was pulled back to consciousness by a woman's voice shouting at someone. Her words at first were muffled as if I were underwater or in a vacuum, but her fragmentary vocals soon became clear.  "Do you hear me, Dane? I said get down from that tree!" the woman's voice was closer and had lowered to a throaty rasp.

My vision, once more hazy, nonetheless noticed a shadow fall over me. Ordinarily, I would have panicked, but I felt too weak to muster even a shudder. Another, more youthful voice, answered the woman. "I'm fine, mother! I've gotta rescue this bird."

The woman responded with a growl. "If Sarah comes back and sees you clambering all over her garden she'll be furious."

     "No she won't, she'll be fine. I do it all the time," the younger replied, a hint of mirth in their tone.

     "You what? Dane! I'm warning you..."

As the woman's voice droned on below, I felt small hands carefully slipping under my body and lifting me up. "What's your story then, birdie?" A small face came into view. A young boy, with a mop of black hair and bright blue eyes, was staring down at me. He was vaguely familiar, but I did not have the energy to work out who he was. I felt weaker by the moment. "No time for dallying," the boy said quietly. "You are in need of help." With that, he placed me in what I can only describe as a sling which was tied around his neck. 

Although he tried to be careful, the transition from tree limb to sling was still painful for me and I managed a rather pathetic caw and click of my beak as he secured me within the cloth transportation.

I could not see where I was going but I sensed we were descending at least. The boy moved slowly as if trying his best not to cause me more discomfort, but it was not easy climbing down a tree. I looked up as his face peered into the sling. "How you holding up birdie?" he said with a smile. A quick ruffle of his hair and a nudge made him look up.

     "Today of all days and you show such disrespect!" the woman said hotly, tugging his ear.

     "Ow!" Dane complained. "Actually mother, it is with respect that I have rescued this bird." I could just make out the boy smoothing down his hair before the folds of the sling flopped over me.

     "And just how do you make that out?"

     "Look!" he opened the sling further so she could look inside. "I heard its cries from across the wall and I just had to come over and rescue it."

A look of genuine surprise spread on her face, then she swallowed. She raised her hand to the boy again, but this time she gently cupped his chin. "Oh Dane," she said softly. "You realise it's not..."

"Yes, I know mother," Dane replied sadly. "But, he is a raven, and I thought it fitting to show some kindness to him. Besides, he is quite badly injured."

The boy's mother smiled and nodded. "I understand son. Okay, let's get him inside and see what we can do."

The boy manoeuvred the sling very carefully so that he held me within with both hands as he made his way across the lawn. A six-foot stone wall loomed in front of us. Dread suddenly engulfed me. Dane suddenly stopped in his tracks as his mother cleared her throat. "We will go the proper way this time Dane. You cannot go over the wall with the bird, you will risk injuring him more."

The boy glanced down at me, looking a little shamefaced. He turned back and headed towards the iron gate which led out into the back alley. I was very thankful that his mother had intervened.  

I started to feel very sleepy but each time my head lolled to the side, Dane would nudge me with his thumbs to bring me alert again. It was a bit of a losing battle really, for I was considerably weakened by my injuries and loss of blood. My eyes closed and I drifted. Even in the boy's hands, I felt the chill of perpetual sleep ripple over me like the ebb and flow of a sea caressing the shore. It was oddly comforting, even enticing, but I would not allow it to seduce me. I had reason to live and this young boy and his mother were going to help me regain some of my strength at least.

But, time had no meaning to me anymore. I could not gauge how long I had wandered in the land between sleep and wakefulness, all I knew, was that I was safe and these kind souls had taken me in.

At one point I discovered myself on a table in what I assumed was their kitchen, judging from the layout of the room and the sound of a dripping tap. Above me a pulley from which tightly bound bouquets of herbs and dried flowers hung as well as some pots and pans. I could hear something bubbling on a stove off to my right. 

The smell of the dried flora mixed with whatever was cooking was a strange aroma indeed, not exactly pleasing to my nostrils but neither was it objectionable. I moved my head a little at the sound of something solid being placed close by. 

The woman plucked some of the dried herbs and flowers from the pulley and placed them into a mortar, then worked them with the pestle, adding a viscous, ochre-coloured liquid. She blended the ingredients methodically, adding a little extra of whatever she felt was required.

     "Now, gently spread his injured wing, Dane. I need to clean the wound first." She moved away for a few moments, then returned with a small bowl and cloth. Misty coloured memories of another woman coming to my aid in a similar fashion washed over me. Images of Lakeshire floated across my inner vision. 

A second later I screeched and flinched as I felt the cloth and warm water connect with my broken flesh. The rough ridges of crusted blood softened and peeled away under the damp cloth. The woman was as gentle as she could be but still it hurt, it felt like sandpaper against my skin. My beak clicked several times but she continued cleaning my wound. 

Dane stroked my chest and head, making soft hushing sounds as his mother placed small amounts of the herb concoction onto my wound. Its cool, soothing properties removed the sting of the cloth having rubbed against raw flesh and gradually all tension in my body dissolved. Only slight aches remained.

     "Will he be alright now?" I heard Dane ask his mother.

     "Yes, he is lucky, for it is not as serious as I first thought, but he will need sleep..."

My saviours' voices grew faint, distant. The last thing I remembered was being placed in a box lined with strips of soft, fragrant fabric. I gladly surrendered to a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

 

     "Stop poking him!" Dane's voice filtered through the murk of my ascendance from unconsciousness.

     "I'm not poking him, I'm just nudging him to wake him up." A new voice answered.

     "Leave him alone! I found him."

     "So? He's not yours, he's not anyone's."

     "Father! Mother! Sade's at it again!"

     "Get lost, Dane."

My eyes peeled open as a short pink finger closed in on my head. Instinctively I cawed.

     "He's awake!" The new voice said excitedly.

     "Mother!" Dane yelled.

     "Shut up, you telltale!"

I heard heavy footfalls nearing followed by a throaty growl. "What's going on here you two?"

     "Sade is bothering the raven, father, she won't listen."

I heard an exasperated sigh. "Sade, you should know better. Wounded beasts need rest to heal."

     "He's had almost two days father," the girl replied. "He will need to eat or he will not have enough strength to fly, mended wing or no."

Two days? I had lain in this box for  _two days_? Weak as I still felt, I shuffled my legs beneath me, bracing myself for pushing up into a standing position. I clicked my beak a few of times, frustrated that it took me four attempts to rise, albeit shakily. 

Once I was up, I was startled by the young girl who appeared in front of me, clapping excitedly. Just like Dane, her hair was black but it framed her face in soft ringlets. Bright blue eyes the same too, there was a strong resemblance to the boy. 

Finally, it dawned on me. They were the Newbery twins. Their father Zachary and mother Ellen, both Gilneans had been kind neighbours to Sarah and I, welcoming us when we first moved in, but were never intrusive individuals. 

I looked around and found the whole family now in front of me.

     "Well ain't you a chipper looking one?" Ellen said smiling at me. Truth be told, I felt anything but 'chipper', but there was no denying I was much improved than I had been when Dane had found me. I jumped onto the rim of the box, wobbling slightly until I found my balance. 

Automatically I opened my wings and flinched slightly at the tightness I felt under my left one. I nuzzled my beak underneath it, inspecting the wound. It had healed quite remarkably, the herb-infused salve having indeed worked wonders. 

The test, of course, would be when I tried to fly but that would have to wait a little while. My body as a whole still ached, the battering from the tree limbs having awarded me many bruises and still tender, but generally speaking, I was much better.  For now, hadn't there been the mention of food? I cawed and looked at Ellen, expectantly.

I heard a small chuckle to my right. Dane stood, his fingers toying with his mouth as he giggled. He was soon joined by Sade who reached out to stroke my chest. I clicked my beak and she quickly retracted her hand but then, after a moment, reached forward again. "I think he wants food, mother," she said turning her bright blues up to Ellen.

     "Aye, I dare say he does. Bring him through then." She turned and led the way. Dane stepped forward and offered his arm for me to jump on and I accepted gladly.

As we moved through the house I took in the surroundings. We vacated an area which had been surrounded by glass; a greenhouse by all accounts. Pots and trays lined shelving, some were empty while a few had small shoots sprouting, others still, boasted full-grown plants. The air was sweet, the smell of rich earth and a myriad of flora ranging from pungent herbs such as Goldthorn, Lichbloom, Mountain Sage to sweeter exotic blooms such as Talandra's Rose, Heartblossom, Rain Poppy and Golden Lotus. The combination was altogether analgesic, calmative and most pleasing. I made a mental note to inform Sarah of our neighbours' floricultural talents. 

The living quarters were spacious, well appointed and welcoming. Very much in keeping with their roots, the Gilnean decor was rustic, in deep reds,  browns, teal and ochres.  Reminiscent of the old life behind the great wall of Gilneas, its earthy and basic foundations also possessed an ambience of warmth, peace and tranquillity. The Newbery's had made a very pleasant home here in Stormwind.

Back in the kitchen and Ellen cut up some fresh fruit then placed it on a tin plate with some grain. She slid the banquet in front of me. I looked up at each of the faces, all of which watched me with quiet regard.

     "Go ahead boy, eat!" Zachary encouraged.

No need to tell me twice. I had no idea of just how hungry I was until I took the first bite of the peach. Its sweetness was like nectar to a bee, sublime. I ate with vigour. 

The children were laughing at me as bits of grain pinged about the dish and table along with fruit seeds and stones, but I was too enraptured with the deliciousness in front of me to care about my table manners. As I ate, Ellen inspected my wing.

**_Music: WOLFSONG by Denny Schneidemesser_ **

 

     "He is healing nicely," she said.

     "Will he be able to fly?" Dane asked.

     "I would think so,  yes."

     "I will put him atop the garden wall then," Zachary announced.

     "So soon?" Sade wailed. "Can't we keep him a bit longer?"

Ellen laughed softly. "No, Sade. He belongs in the wild, he should be free."

The young girl sighed heavily. Then her voice brightened a little. "Maybe he will visit us for his breakfast and dinner."

     "Maybe he will," Ellen said.

A silence ensued before I heard Zachary ask Dane what was wrong. I looked up from my meal, my beak covered in soft fruit flesh and grain. The boy looked sad. His eyes met mine and I watched as a tiny tear threatened. "I guess..." he gulped, "... deep down, I kept hoping he was perhaps...you know?  _Him_. He was a nice man, I liked him."

The boy's father placed an arm around his son's young shoulders. "Aye, the Archmage was a good and a kind man."

     "He promised to show us some magic tricks when he returned from the war with the Void," Sade said quietly. "I was looking forward to that." She sniffed. 

I felt a stab of pain at the girl's words. I could not recall making such a promise, but I swore there and then that if I could be transformed into my human self, I would indeed put on a little magic show for them.

Ellen smiled wistfully. "I shall look in on Sarah soon. It is too early to call upon her today, it being her first day back in their home after the funeral."

My head snapped round. I had missed my funeral! True enough, Sade had said I had slept for two days. That oddly enough did not matter to me anymore. Sarah being home, however, did. I had to get to her. 

Somehow I had to let her know I was alive and that she needed to give the journal to Illidan. Although I was still stiff and sore, I flapped my wings and cawed loudly. "Looks like our guest is wanting to leave already," Zachary said, moving closer to me. 

The children wailed "No!" but their parents told them it was the right thing to do. I hated causing them upset, but this was important and how after all, could I keep my promise to them if I did not leave now? 

I jumped onto Zachary's arm, still flapping my wings to test how they felt before I made the big move. Ellen pulled Dane and Sade up against her apron, hushing them and rubbing their forearms affectionately. 

It was tempting to blast a frost bolt as a clue to my identity, but I refrained. It would serve no purpose. It would not guarantee their realising who I was and would probably only upset them more.  

I turned away as their father approached the rear door. The children's sobs echoed in my ears; it was heart-breaking. We stepped out into the garden. The rays filtering through the soft clouds let me know it was late morning. 

I looked back into the kitchen. Dane and Sade were now at the doorway, watching, their bright blue eyes shimmering with tears. I had never expected to have such an effect on two young children, especially when they barely knew the real me. It was strangely warming yet hugely woeful. 

I looked forward again as Zachary raised his arm and guided me onto the wall which separated our gardens. My claws made little click-clack sounds as they alighted the stone. I could not bring myself to face the children again, so I fixed my stare on the bricks and windows of my home. My heart started to beat faster, louder.  Sarah was within those walls, along with our son.

It was then I realised my pounding heart was not just hammering because I was euphoric at seeing her again, but also because I was absolutely terrified. I was so close and yet so far from my heart's desire. What if she had decided to suddenly clear out everything that was mine? Now the funeral was passed, how could she possibly maintain hope that I would return?

 Furthermore, if she was packing everything away, including the contents of my study, she may not have seen the journal. So she would never know how deeply I loved her and that I would never stop loving her. Equally, she would not have seen the note to hand the journal to Illidan and therefore, I was indeed doomed to remain a raven for the rest of my days.

My reverie was broken by Zachary shooing me, encouraging me to take flight. He was right, I should go. At best it would ease his children's hearts if they saw me fly safely away. I crouched then pushed myself up, spreading my wings. 

It hurt a little at first, but as I ascended, it started to ease. I had been fortunate indeed, the injury had not been critical, but severe enough to have warranted a special healing salve that rendered me unconscious for two days.

I thought it best to fly straight over my house, out of sight from the Newbery twins, for if they thought I was just in the garden next door they would likely wait at the doorway or try to see into the garden to check if I was alright. So I did exactly that, but then I perched on the balcony of my study which was out of their view. I sat and stared inside, trying not to think, for thinking at the moment caused me emotional stress. 

My eyes eventually registered the fact that my desk was cleared. My heart momentarily sank. Then I saw everything on the floor. Everything that was, except the journal. 

Panic! I started to pant, once more my chest was booming with frantic heartbeats. I ran round in circles on the balcony floor, my brain going into overdrive. Until I caught sight of my reflection in the glass door. I stopped cold. This was not helping the situation. I needed to be calm, practical. I looked back inside. 

Only the desk had been tampered with, nothing else as far as I could see, so I deduced that ruled out any thievery. I also doubted very much Drew and company had been responsible for this the other day. So, was it possible Sarah had done it?

I scurried up onto the roof and checked over the wall to ensure there weren't two pairs of inquisitive eyes watching from next door. It was safe.  I flew up and over to the windows that looked into our living room and settled on the sill. 

My breath caught in my throat. There, curled up in the armchair was my Sarah and on her lap was the journal. I watched as she seemed absorbed in the book, slowly turning the pages and continuing to read each new segment. 

" _See me_ ," I pleaded, insanely hoping I could reach her telepathically. 

I ached for her to notice me, to know who I was and instantly realise I was alive. The desire to tap on the window was sorely tempting, but I did not surrender, I couldn't, for I knew not how to convince her.  

I saw her clutch at her breast, then wipe tears from her eyes. I even saw her laugh a little after.  I took comfort in knowing that she had finally found my testament of love - and the clues I had left behind. I inched to the edge of the sill, just behind the shutter as she closed the book and rose from the chair. 

Chancing another peek, I saw her place it on the sideboard before she disappeared through the door to the hallway.  Muffled voices. Had the Newbery's decided to visit now after all?

 

I took flight once more, passing over the chimney pots and over to the front of the house. I perched on the canopy above the door but quickly scurried out of sight as I saw Drew and the red-haired woman, along with two men who I recognised from the Dark Portal. 

I could not risk them seeing me and repeating their target practice. I waited until I heard the door close before I hopped over the tiles straining to hear where they were in the house. 

It was more a case of knowing Sarah's routine when guests arrived that I surmised she at least was in the kitchen, no doubt arranging snacks and drinks.  I moved over to the canopy above the kitchen window. The voices were low, and I could only make out the odd word or two, but there was no mistaking it was Drew and Sarah who spoke.

A bright flare then emanated through the window along with a steady thrumming. I knew that sight and sound; a portal. I realised then he was saying farewell. Their friendship was incredibly strong and they would always be there for each other, even though their universes were infinitely far apart. 

My heart ached at the thought of how alone she would be feeling now.  I could visualise her tears and in so doing, I could swear I heard her sob. Then, the signature pop of the portal closing left the house disturbingly quiet. 

I sat, feeling utterly helpless. I could not even comfort her. More muffled voices came from within the kitchen. I moved further over the roof. I guessed I was just above where the door opened into the hall from the kitchen.

_"It is _not_  Thalassian, it is common language, English, where I come from. Look!"  _I overheard her say. Who was she talking to? 

More talk, but it was unclear, incoherent. Then ...  _"Sarah, whatever you see within these pages, is a truth intended for you and only you. I cannot see it, but I would ask if I may study this book so that I have a better understanding of its content."_

I cawed aloud with relief! I had not seen him enter the house, but I recognised that voice. Illidan. And he had seen the journal!

At last! Yes, he would need to study it, that I knew, but the possibility that I would be returned to my human self was now very much a pending certainty. I just prayed I would survive the transformation.


	16. The Summoning

 

I had overheard Sarah telling Illidan to use my study to decipher the magic in the journal. By the time I had flown back round to the study window, he had closed the drapes. It frustrated me that I could not see what he was doing.

I could do nothing but wait and pray my demonic friend would be able to understand and use the notes I had left behind for his attention. Even sneaking glances at what Sarah was doing did not help the time progress any faster. This was going to be a long day.

Just after lunchtime, Gwen arrived; her unmistakable voice being what gave her identity away. I flew round to the living room window and saw her holding my son. She did so love strolling through Stormwind pushing the pram, cooing at Ocel as he watched everything around him until the motion made him fall asleep. How I ached to hold him again and I felt a twinge of envy as I watched her hand him over to Sarah. I heard Sarah asking Arcaena to fetch Gwen a drink. The demon hunter must have been in the kitchen for I did not see her.

Sarah moved through to the nursery and I followed overhead, landing on the sill and staying concealed behind the shutter. I could secretly observe what was going on in the room through the wooden slats.

I watched in awe as she settled into the rocking chair and started to nurse him. It was a marvellous sight. She rocked very gently as Ocel took his nourishment, his tiny hand kneading the fabric of her open top. The look in her eyes took my breath away. 

With such unconditional love, I knew our son would have a blessed childhood; a mother who would protect him in whatever way she deemed necessary and love him just as fiercely. She would always there for him – literally. Her immortality, the unexpected side-effect of Illidan reviving her from near death was something none of us had expected. 

I for one had not reacted well to the revelation nor the fact that her journey into the Twisting Nether had meant she would never be able to conceive again. The rupturing of her soul had left her barren. Yet, it was one of Illidan's myriad powers which enabled him to sense her pregnancy at the time and together with help from the Naaru, he protected our child from suffering any ill-effect of her crenellated soul and sequential resuscitation. Unfortunately, he could not renew that which was stolen from her. 

Now, as I watched the two most important people in my life continue to build an unbreakable bond, I acknowledged that we, Sarah and I, possessed something so unique we would still be happy and very much in love, regardless of her immortality or indeed any alteration to her being.  Providing I was given the opportunity of course; I had to, firstly, revert to my human form,  _then_ I would be able to prove how much she meant to me. 

My fleeting moment of exhilaration was suddenly peppered with doubt. Perhaps she would not feel the same for me. With time to dwell on the things I had said prior to events at the Dark Portal, and the past few days looking to the skies for me (according to Drew) with no result, maybe she had indeed started to lose hope. 

For all my journal had evidenced my love for her, she may well now see it as a thing of the past, something lost, gone forever. What if my transformation was going to be too late? Was my transformation going to happen  _at all_? Would there be much point? 

I shook my feathers with asperity, spreading my wings as I did so, inadvertently knocking the shutter causing it to bang against the sill. I froze as I saw her turn round. A look of annoyance spread across her face. I shuffled back to the very edge of the sill and peered through the gap between shutter and window frame. After a moment she turned her attention back to Ocel and continued her lullaby.

A few minutes later she rose and took him over to the changing table where she tended to his nappy. His limbs slowly drooped and I knew the little guy was sleepy after his feed. I could still hear Sarah humming as she finished cleaning and dressing him. With a tender kiss on his forehead and brushing her lips over his knuckles, she laid him down in his crib. She stood beside him until her lullaby was finished then she made her way back to the hall. 

I assumed she had gone to rejoin Gwen and Arcaena, so I decided to leave them be for a while and do a circuit or two of Stormwind, perhaps even find something to eat. It had been a while since I had enjoyed the fruit and grain at the Newbery's. And, the day was still dragging. All this  _waiting_!

As I glided over the rooftops, I noticed the statue I observed on my arrival in the city. It had been unveiled. Although I had half expected it, having realised whose funeral was being attended, it nonetheless came as a bit of shock seeing myself carved in stone. 

There I was, surveying Stormwind and poised as if in the act of protecting the city and all who lived within. I landed on a tree close by to look at it in a little more detail. I supposed it was more flattering than the one at the entrance to the city when I was ... well, not looking my best shall we say. A thought, so incomprehensible came to mind, that I cawed my amusement. 

I imagined what my great friend Vindicator Ocel would have said had he been with me at that precise moment. He would have looked at the statue, nodding his head and pouting slightly. Then he would have laughed, slapped me on the back and said, " _Ah, old friend – if you ask me they've made you look far better dead than you do alive_!"  

Inwardly, I chuckled – well as close to chuckle as a raven could manage. We had been inclined to have a dry, sometimes slightly sick sense of humour. How I missed him.   

I was also rather pleased to see the new effigy did not possess the (alleged) paunch which Erik had so  _not_  diplomatically pointed out one evening in my home. Thinking of that incident now, it was quite amusing, even my rather maladroit vanity made me grin as I recalled Sarah trying to keep a straight face. She no doubt thought I hadn't noticed her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as she'd prepared some snacks for our guests – but I did.

Another, memory from that evening unexpectedly washed, nay ...  _cascaded_  over me. A most intimate memory at that. One which suddenly made me very keen to be returned to my human form. I was sorely tempted to allow myself to relive this and similar moments, but I decided to refrain from such ... indulgence. There would be time aplenty to engage in desire when I was a man again.

Once more a feeling of pending doom overcame me. It seemed when my thoughts were most ebullient, some influence swamped me with negativity and hopelessness. In some respects it reminded me of the Void and its grasping, suffocating, detrimental leverage on the peoples of Azeroth; myself not having been spared its effects.

With one last look at my chiselled stone features which watched over the city, I took to the wing once more and went in search of sustenance.

I made my way to the Golden Keg, a favourite eatery and inn within the Dwarven sector of Stormwind. I had many happy memories there. Hopefully, I would be awarded some food from Myrla, the barmaid and head waitress in the establishment. It would also give me time to shake this feeling of gloom from my mind.

**_Music: ORDINARY MIRACLE  ||  Sarah McLachlan_ **

I flew down to the rear of the building, knowing full well that was where the barmaid often fed the birds. She came across as a bit gruff at times did "our Myrla" as us patrons referred to her, but she was a kindly soul too and very fond of all wildlife that visited the area. As suspected, she was out back, tending to her little bird feeders that sat on the flat roof of the storeroom for the inn. 

My avian kin was so used to her that they flitted and hopped around in close proximity. Some sat on her shoulders watching every move she made, waiting with eager anticipation for the fare she would bring forth. I decided to land on the inn's upper roof and observe Myrla with her aviary before I introduced myself so-to-speak.

She chatted away to the birds while she moved among them and addressed each one by name. Had I been human, I would have chortled in the background at some of her choices. Some were named after regulars of the inn, others after quite influential personages.

"Now then, Daryl, ah hope ye've bin behavin' yersel', eh?" She spoke to a blackbird, of which there were numerous in and around the bird feeders. The bird chirruped in response as it eagerly awaited the culinary delights which Myrla had brought out for them. 

The others crowded round as she lifted a large round bowl. She scattered generous handfuls of grain on and around the feeders dotted over the top of the flat-roofed annexe. "Aye, proper stuff fur ye lot furst," she said cheerily. About thirty birds descended and started picking at the offerings enthusiastically.

"A wee bit o' carrion surprise fur ye tae," she said, producing another bowl. Its contents looked a tad dubious – a reddish coloured mush from where I sat. "Dinna ken whit kind o' meat it is - bit o' a mystery if ye ask me, but Colin swore blind it wis high quality." She started ladling some onto tin plates atop the feeders. Her "guests" circled the plates, some a little suspicious of the gloop in the centre of the plate.

One bird, a magpie, landed somewhat unceremoniously next to one of the plates, knocking a pretty bluebird out of the way before started gulping the plate's contents down. "Arthas!" Myrla said hotly. Inwardly, I laughed at her name choice for this one. My mirth grew as she spoke softly to the little bluebird. "Aww, Jaina! Ye pair wee thing! He's such a brute that Arthas!"

I omitted a guttural croak and Myrla turned her eyes to me. She gasped. "Why, I ... " she stammered, mouth agape. It seemed odd that my presence stirred such a reaction in her; she was after all the bird-lady of Stormwind. I took in my surroundings and I soon became conscious of the fact that I was the only raven. My attention turned back to the she-dwarf. She was still staring up at me in stupefaction.

My eyes flitted to the bowl in her hand. From it, the meaty mush slipped out and formed a small glossy red puddle at her feet; some making messy contact with her boot. I cawed in warning.

She glanced down. "Ach, fur goodness sake!" she chided, righting the bowl and placing it on the feeder. She shook her gooey boot and drops of the carrion creation splattered across the roof a few inches from where she stood. One or two birds hopped over and duly devoured the discarded meal.

Myrla looked back up. A smile crept across her face. "Well, lad," she guffawed. "I probably shouldnae, oot o' respect an' a'thing, but ...  I have the purfect name for ye." She stepped forward. I peered over the guttering as she approached. After carrying out a quick surveillance of her immediate surroundings, she looked up, eyes wide. She cupped her hands round her mouth and with a rather disharmonic constraint she whispered, " _Khadgar_!"

Oh, if only she knew! I cawed my approval and flew down to the feeder nearest her. Head upturned, she followed my path and smiled broadly when I landed. "Muradin's beard! I  believe ye understood me!" she said.

I ruffled my feathers in response. She proceeded to ladle out some more of the red coloured crud onto the tin plate atop the feeder. I simply looked at it, took a step back and cawed up at her.

"Oh! Fussy are ye?" she smiled. "Och well, considering yer namesake, ah'll allow ye that. Now whit will ah..." She looked towards some of the other containers she had painstakingly carried up the ladder to the flat roof. With a triumphant grunt, she picked one up and came back to the feeder.

It was a mixture of sweet and savoury pastries. I could not have asked for better, these were a particular favourite of mine – a bit of a guilty pleasure really. "Hush now boys and girls, ah'm no supposed to be givin' these tae ye, but if ye ask me, they'll jist gan tae waste. Brendan makes fer o'er mony o' these, every time."

An excitable mass of bright, light, dark and dull feathers bombarded the feeder. Seemed I wasn't the only one who liked the Golden Keg's pastries. I was hit from all directions as more of my hungry "cousins" arrived on the feeder; small birds, medium birds,  _big_  birds! But then the feeding frenzy truly began. 

Beaks, bills, claws, talons all dependant on size and breed, started fighting for the tasty morsels. I was hungry, so I sure as hell wasn't going to miss out either. I started pecking at the crumbly delights, nudging my way forward, squeezing in between the others.

"Fur goodness  _sake_!" Myrla shrieked. I looked up and yet more birds dove down. The flapping, screeching and squawking became an all-out riot, and Myrla had to ward off some of the swooping diners as they started attacking the container she still held with the remaining pastries stored inside. This was getting out of hand, and also very much out of the ordinary.

My appetite dissipated rather quickly as my feathers started to prickle; the sensation of static rippling across my flesh made me shudder. It was similar to what I had experienced in the Dalaran crater yet ... somehow more ... personal. 

I noted that some of the pastry contenders were staring at me, obviously sensing whatever plight was now affecting me. Some watched warily; a few others reacted differently.

A sharp jab to my left wing caused me to caw out loudly. The attack was very quickly followed by others.  All of them managed to hit where I had been injured with the arrow. With wings and feathers beating wildly around me the assault intensified. Just over the din, I heard Myrla shouting she was leaving, because we were "all bad birds today".

My wound reopened, I could feel blood trickling over my chest and the pain was returning rapidly as beaks penetrated the gash. Numbers had increased and soon I was knocked over onto my side. 

Through the countless jabs and scratches I was victim to, the sizzle of static prevailed. I was in between being overpowered by my feathered kin or rendered immobilized by this phenomenon. I had to do something.

I struggled to focus, but even with my depleted strength I finally mustered enough power and blasted a bolt of frost through my avian attackers. The bright flash of blue was stippled with the blacks, browns, greys and brighter shades of plumage as the birds were jettisoned from me. For a few moments, utter silence dominated the scene as I lay, panting from my injuries.

Gradually, one or two disorientated squawks rose in the air. I struggled upright. My eyes, though bleary, managed to see the multitude of loose feathers around me on the feeder. In clumps, they shifted and swirled around the surface from the aftermath of my retaliation.

I noticed some globules of the red meaty mush had crystalized giving them a slightly bluey-white hue. Still plagued by the buzz of static under my feathers, I now felt a wave of guilt at having harmed all those birds; Myrla's little friends. 

I nervously peered over the edge of the feeder. The flat roof was littered with bodies lying on their sides or backs.  I scanned them, my guilt still washing over me, unforgiving. Then, to my immense relief, with wings flapping they righted themselves and I saw that they had all been merely stunned. What irony that Arthas the magpie also lay panting amid a patch of frost blades. My conscience, however, was cleared as I noted all breathing.

The strange sensation which had started this whole sorry event, heightened and became a steady audible thrum; at least to  _my_ ears it did. Thoughts and memories started to swirl in my head, like coloured pigments in water being stirred, blended together by some unseen force. I blinked and glanced around me. 

My surroundings seemed to waver, pulse in and out of my view. One moment I was on a feeder looking at crumpled bodies of birds around me, the next I was aboard a zeppelin, then underwater in a bubble!  My mind kept conjuring past events, places, people, then transported me, turbulently, back to the present. 

The images started to flit back and forth erratically. I was losing all comprehension of where I was.  _Who_ I was. I cawed out repeatedly but in my head, I sounded like a man. " _What_  is happening here?"

My head involuntarily turned towards the Cathedral. An overwhelming instinct consumed me. Something ... was calling me.

 

 


	17. My Past, Present and Future

 

The prickle of static intensified. It ebbed and flowed under my feathers, creating goose-bumps on my flesh. My quills felt as though they were vibrating - tiny, but insistent little tremors deep in my skin. It was becoming uncomfortable.

I scanned the rooftops and buildings to the southwest of my location towards Cathedral Square. I saw nothing which could be accountable for this strange affliction. Yet, somehow I knew whatever was reaching out to me came from somewhere within that sector.

My stunned avian kin was beginning to recover from my earlier frost attack. Some flew away, perhaps afraid of my ability. Others eyed me suspiciously, aggressively.

Then I felt it. A tug. It was not another bird attempting retaliation though. It was magic.  _Powerful_  magic. I glanced down around my feet. The husks of kernels were bouncing on the surface of the feeder as if a rhythm was being steadily beat on the wood. I watched, unnerved yet strangely exhilarated by the grain dance.

Quite suddenly I was overwhelmed by an echo. Voices, both recognisable and unfamiliar, vacillated around me. An image of the Dark Portal floated before my eyes then merged with faces I knew; Ocel, Drew, Erik, Modera, Kalecgos, Illidan - and Sarah. Countless, nameless others shimmered in the background, their shapes wavering between stable and tenuous forms. 

Next, they all started to spin at a mind-boggling speed turning into a kaleidoscope of blurred colour and distorted shapes. I flinched as their pitches altered; crying, wailing, shouting, screaming. Then a brutal, deafening lull followed. The pitter-patter of grain dropping back to the feeder surface brought me out of my trance.

I surveyed my immediate surroundings. All the birds had flown. I was the last one standing.

My body was just recovering from the static invasion when another, more persistent tug pulled at me. The spiculum started to build once more. Again, sounds, voices and images rushed past then doubled back, flowing over me, through me. 

My breath caught in my throat as suddenly everything went dark. I blinked rapidly, panic gripping my body. Dark grey, misty brown shapes surrounded me. Stone, metal. It all started to shift, rise, restructure. As it reverted to its former state, so did I. 

I saw myself as the Archmage Khadgar again, standing at the entrance to the Dark Portal. I was staring at Sarah. Her hair was all tousled, dirt smudges marked her face, her clothes dusty and torn. But still, she was beautiful. 

I saw her mouth moving, forming my name.  _Forgive me_ , I uttered before everything reversed and I was once more encased in darkness.

More violently still, I was jettisoned from this vision and spat out onto the seed littered feeder. I stumbled. Failing to keep my balance I toppled over and hit the floor of the flat roof, landing on my injured wing. My cry of pain seemed to reach out across the city. I swore I could hear the guttural screech ricochet off every nearby building and beyond.

The phenomenon, it appeared, was not yet done with me. I could sense a shift in its power. My body started to tremble, feathers flexed, pulling at my skin again. I pushed up, spreading my wings. As I rose into the air, a shooting pain in my left scapular caused me to bank to the side. I plummeted a few feet before righting myself seconds before I nearly smashed into the wall of a nearby building. Flying was suddenly a most difficult exercise.  I panted as I strove to maintain altitude.

I could feel the magic drawing me. I could not ascertain, however, whether it was due the affiliation I possessed with sorcery or something else which steered me towards Cathedral Square. All I knew was the need to go there was critical. 

More worryingly was the fact my thoughts were becoming irrevocably muddled. My self-awareness of only moments earlier was in jeopardy of being somehow corrupted, distorted. One moment I knew with the utmost clarity who I was, then seconds later, I had no recollection. Back and forth it went, the memories becoming frayed at the edges, my identity vanishing from the recesses of my mind.

A voice, faint and distant spoke to me.  _Remember, all is not lost, Khadgar._ I clung to the words of my dear, late friend, Ocel. The image of his spirit whispering to me in the Dark Portal shimmered and wavered, threatening to be extinguished altogether.  But his voice had reached me. I had a goal to aim for and I could not lose sight of that. I had to adhere to the path. So I kept repeating the words in my head –  _All is not lost. All is not lost. All is not ..._

My vision misted over. Exhaustion was setting in as I crossed the boundary into the Cathedral Square.

Again, I felt the dynamics of the magic alter. I was losing control. It was, without doubt, the strangest thing to experience; knowing that everything I had learned over the years, all that I had strived to achieve; faces, names, places I'd been to and relationships I'd built, were being eradicated from my memory, piece by piece. And there was nothing I could do about it. That plane between awareness and ignorance was one of the most bizarre places I had ever found myself and it was also one of the most terrifying.

_All is not lost. All is not lost._ I repeated.

Another strange side-effect of this magical pull came in the form of astral projection. Everything suddenly blurred. My vision beheld two ravens, my substantial self and another diaphanous version. They flew together for a moment then pulled apart and I found myself looking down on the back of my injured self. Some of my memories thankfully had been transposed to the ethereal raven, so a small portion of my identity remained. It was then the real me felt the unmistakable grasp of an ancient power.

**_Music: I BLEED FOR YOU || Peter Gundry_ **

 

I was snared, captured, drawn to the window of a house overlooking Stormwind harbour. For all my left wing's injury from an arrow shaft had opened anew, I fought against the pull of whatever was luring me towards this building. The pain, however, was excruciating and starting to take its toll.

There was no way I could maintain this furious effort any longer. Although I knew I would drop like a stone as soon as I stopped using my wings, I was too exhausted to care. Resigned to the fact I was either going to receive more injuries or at worst, die, I gave in to the lure of blissful oblivion.

To my utter amazement, I did not fall. My wings remained spread, they neither flapped nor folded, and yet my body moved relentlessly towards the window.

Realisation dawned - I was riding a wave of magic. As I neared the opening, I saw azure light pulsing, growing steadily brighter. I could hear it too; the unmistakable thrum and throb of an ancient, powerful magic- its sound almost tangible. It reached out from the building, beckoning me to partake of its power, to bathe in its ineluctable charm.

I neared the open window. In that instant, my memory cleared somewhat and I recognised my study! It was from here the magic stemmed and its caster was an enormous purple-skinned humanoid; a night elf. By all accounts an extremely powerful one too, whom I did not recognise.

What little energy I had left was waning yet I tried once more to pull away, to take back control. My experience had drained me however and I was left scuffling on the balcony, all to no avail.

As my body crossed the entrance to the room, the elf looked up. His eyes were amber, full of fire and fierce determination. He stood in front of a circle of runic symbols. They spun on the floor like a spinning top, pulsing, rising and falling with each chant I heard him utter.

My heart started to pound again; exhaustion gave way to fear once more. In a last desperate effort, I tried to break free of what dragged me towards the amber-eyed man, but it was pointless. He had me in the grip of a summoning spell.

I was suddenly and brutally slammed on the ground within the revolving symbols. Also drawn within that circle was my spiritual raven. Once more I was whole.

In the background, I thought I heard a woman scream but dismissed it as the pain in my left wing overtook everything else I sensed. But it was nothing compared to what I had yet to endure.

My entire body began to elongate, expand. I could hear and feel my bones breaking. Torturously, they knitted back together before breaking yet again as my body continued to distort and grow. The excruciating torment repeated itself over and over.

I cried out for the agony to stop but the amber-eyed male continued chanting over the thrum of magic, his harangue intensifying with every magical utterance. Somehow, I recognised the words. I  _knew_  the incantation.

The brief surprise gave way to another agonised screech as I felt my skin rip and peel off my muscle and bones. The avian contours and rectrices were absorbed into my torn flesh and replenished by new growth of both skin and feather which altered yet again to -  _cloth_! My body felt like it was being turned inside out.

If this did not stop, I was going to die for sure.

Not only was my body ravaged by the physical alterations but my mind was being flooded with all my memories again. They crashed together like a stormy sea rushing against an unforgiving rock face, throwing up visions and snatching them back, over and over. I was bearing witness to my past, present and future in the most brutal transformation.

My torso and limbs literally burned as they reformed, lengthened, stretched, fleshed out. Vertebrae expanded, popping audibly as they formed the human spine. I thrashed violently upon the floor. It was physically and emotionally impossible to remain immobile during the process. I prayed to Elune to render me unconscious but she did not heed my pleas.

My legs felt the most excruciating pain of all.    The musculature rippled and pounded beneath the repeated laceration of flesh.  Veins, tendons, ligaments all went through my barbarous cruciation.  The continual absorption and emergence of new plumage was akin to thousands of small serrated blades wheedling through and over my body.

Wings which in effect were a bird's hands, contracted and realigned, the snapping of bone and osseous matter turning my morphing appendages into tortured claws. As my upper and lower arms developed, gradually my hands took on their human form.

By the time my facial structure began its transformation, exhaustion was finally starting to offer me a means of escape. The nictitating membrane of my avian eyes was consumed by my tear ducts and ciliary muscles gave way to the human iris and lens.  

Vaguely, blinking slowly, I remembered watching the night elf, illuminated by the azure spinning symbols. His enormous physique loomed over me.  My now human mouth managed the smallest of smiles as I saw he held Atiesh in his hands. He pounded it on the floor, keeping up the ancient spell. Once, twice, three times. 

The room then hushed. Runic symbols stopped spinning. The elf quieted.

I lay panting, covered in hundreds of loose feathers. As the intense pain had eased, I assumed my body was fully transformed, but I did not have the energy to make an inspection. Deep aches however still lingered in every joint, every muscle and bone serving a very real reminder of what I had just endured. I swear even my hair hurt at that point. 

The floor beneath my ravaged body offered only slight relief from the coolness of its wooden boards. I think I whimpered. I was utterly drained and in dire need of sleep. 

Someone touched my head. I groaned, pulling myself out of the foetal position. The movement caused the feathers to shift and tumble from my body.

Sounds nearby stirred me a little. "No!" I heard a woman whisper. "This cannot be!" 

I groaned, relief washing over me. I knew that voice; that  _wonderful_ voice. "Sarah." I managed before I felt consciousness slip from me.

 


	18. If I Could Turn Back Time

**_Music: BETWEEN WORLDS by Roger Subirana_ **

 Voices and birdsong penetrated my mind. They pulled me towards consciousness. Shapes flitted past a light source. I flinched slightly as each brief shadow crossed over my closed lids. I listened again to the sounds. They drifted through a window most likely, I thought. Happy voices, incomprehensible chatter and soft laughter.

I struggled to open my eyes, the lids seeming reluctant to carry out my bidding. But with effort, slowly, they gave way and I greeted the morning. Images were blurry, possibly due to a build-up of sleep matter.

I took a deep breath and was awarded slight aches and pains, particularly on my left side. Carefully testing my scapular in an attempt to gauge the pain of movement, I gingerly lifted my wing. The shape and colouring of the limb did not compute. I strained to see what was in front of my eyes, willing my vision to clear.

Gradually, contours began to stabilize. It was no wing which was before me. I blinked again. It seemed an almost lazy exercise, for it seemed to take aeons for my sight to reveal what was truly in front of me. It looked like a human arm! I brought my other one in front of me. Was I dreaming? Was I a man again?

My heart started beating a forceful rhythm. Pulling my arms closer, I started to flex and fold my fingers.  _Fingers_! Flashing images then crossed my mind - spinning runes, the sound of someone chanting in a deep reverberating baritone. The vision dispersed as my fingers neared my face. I could see the creases at the joints, lines on my palms and at my wrists. Small cuts and bruises, healing nicely but nonetheless still evident. My fingernails; some chipped, with traces of dirt underneath were still fairly well manicured, considering. One or two callouses had developed, a little rough to touch but nothing drastic. I marvelled at my hands, turning them back and forth before my eyes as if I were seeing them for the first time.

My breathing was rapid, escaping my mouth in hot bursts. My tongue brushed against teeth. I grinned. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have teeth. 

I clasped a newfound hand to my mouth and exhaled, then inhaled. My nose wrinkled. I needed to brush my teeth! While they had been absent for ... how many days? I wondered. Five? Six? Seven? More? The calculations could wait, the point was, my breath was rank. But it was  _my_ breath. My  _human_ breath! I grinned again, wider this time.

I then traced over every contour; my brow, temples, eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks and chin. Without a mirror, it was hard to gauge how I looked, but I certainly thought my face was thinner. By the rough prickle against my palms, it seemed a number of days growth had established. I made a mental note; that would need to go.

I looked down and could make out my human form under the bedding. An incomputable wave of euphoria washed over me. I  _was_ myself again! 

Then, a moment's panic gave way to a slight hitch and tremor in my breathing. I grabbed the edge of the sheet that covered me. Lifting it, I raised my head and peered under. I had definitely lost weight, but that was not what concerned me. I reached down with my right hand and felt between my legs. Seconds later, I sighed with relief. All was intact.

I lay staring at the ceiling, smirking - most stupidly I had no doubt. The absurdity of my moment's fretfulness then dawned on me and a solitary laugh, more of a guffaw really, escaped me as I withdrew my hand and settled the sheet and blanket around me again.

My mirth eased. I sighed as I turned to look to my right. Aches began to intensify as I became more awake. I focused on my surroundings. A room. A familiar one at that. My bedchamber. Correction –  _our_  bedchamber. Sarah's and mine.

I recognised the dresser with it's large mirror. I smiled as I could make out ornate bottles of Sarah's cosmetics, her favoured scents and her hairbrush. I visualised her sitting in front of that mirror, brushing her hair methodically, sweeping it over, flicking it back and brushing some more. I remembered watching her carry out that very ritual before she'd come to bed.  Her eyes would then watch me in the mirror while I lay, waiting for her to join me. The image wavered then vanished.

_So how did I get here?_  I wondered. My recollection was fuzzy. My earlier recognition played over in my mind once more, peppered with one or two more details. A night elf, reciting ancient Thalassian script. But who was he?  _What_ was he? A sorcerer? It looked like he was in my study, manipulating a circle of symbols. Pulsing, spinning, rising and... ensnaring me, then...nothing!

My mind mulled it over for a few moments more. I knew I had left a secret message in a journal. For someone in particular, but that was not who I had seen in my study. So who was that elf? The remnants of the image then dispersed, offering no final resolution to my quandary. In due course, no doubt, I would have all the answers.

My fingers kneaded the soft blanket that covered me and I inhaled. An audible sigh escaped me. I could not only  _smell_ her, I could almost taste her. Sarah! Her perfume, honeysuckle and wild lotus, permeated the air, the bedding, the room. It was the most beautiful scent. Even though my mind told me it was familiar, my senses received it as something unique. Exciting, intoxicating, exotic.

As I revelled in this discovery, my gaze drifted over to the window. The delicate voiles were billowing softly in the morning breeze. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but as I stared longer I conceived the gossamer drapes were lightly hovering over a human shape curled up in the generously upholstered armchair. I angled my head so I could better observe the figure.

**_Music: NOCTURNE || by Secret Garden_ **

There, with a blanket draped over her, was my Sarah. I drank in the vision that was her. Her gentle face, framed by her dark auburn hair, the odd strand having fallen over her cheek. I smiled as the tips fluttered under her nose while she slumbered. Her nose twitched, the hair tickling it. My entire being felt joy at the sight of her. The curve of her brow, her slightly upturned nose, the full lips, the fall and rise of her breasts as she breathed softly. How I  _longed_ for her.

I tried to push myself up, but the pain in my left shoulder made me grunt rather loudly and I fell back onto the pillows. My effort stirred her from her sleep. I stilled as her eyes fixed on mine. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and shower her with kisses, feel her softness, smell her hair and her skin. 

As she continued to hold my gaze, however, a cloud formed over my desire. Something lurking, brooding in my memory. Had I hurt her somehow? Had I been less than loving to her? Slowly, it started to come back. The rhythm of my heart changed tempo. Echoes of arguments flooded my mind. I saw her tears, her anger, I saw  _my_  anger and heard my accusatory tone. 

I felt my heart crush. How could I have been like that with her? Every muscle in my body tensed. My behaviour had been unforgivable. I felt a profound sadness. "I – I'm sorry, Sarah," I managed, breathless. My voice was strained through lack of use for ... how long? "I didn't mean the things I ..." I could not finish, I felt so remorseful.

She unfurled the blanket from her legs. I watched as she rose from the chair and came towards me, but as she neared, my conscience made me avert my eyes. I felt the edge of the bed sink slightly when she sat at my side. I turned my head away. 

Her voice whispered my name. Consumed by shame for having been so unkind, I could not look at her, but again, my name tumbled softly from her lips. Her fingers gently touched my chin, turning my head to face her. Being so close to her was igniting sensations I felt I had no right to feel, but I could not prevent how my body reacted to her.

"You have been through much," she said, her voice like a soft summer breeze. "Do not punish yourself for things that were out with your control."

Her compassion overwhelmed me. "I said some –  _harsh_ things, which I can never retract." I could feel a tight lump in my throat, my mouth went dry. "I ..."

She hushed me, placing her forefinger on my lips. Her soft smile amazed me. "You and me both," she said quietly. "I reacted sharply to what you said, and I'm sorry too. But I know now it was the influence of the Void. And you were not alone, Khadgar, many others experienced the same torment. It was a heavy shroud of fear and uncertainty that made us say what we did. It was not us.  _Never_ us." The look in her eyes bathed me in a conciliatory reprieve from my torment.

I lifted my hand to stroke her cheek, but the pain in my shoulder caused me to wince and lower my arm rather heavily. My eyes fixed on hers as I watched her studying my face. Her fingers neared my cheek, then she hesitated, uncertain. Slowly, her fingertips moved forward again and they touched my mouth. She was trembling.

My lips parted in response to her touch, my pulse racing. I noticed her breathing had become short, hitched. I wondered what was going through her mind.  _Do you forgive me? Do you still love me?_

As if in response to my unspoken questions, she leaned down and her mouth covered mine. I closed my eyes in sweet surrender. It was the most tender, love-filled kiss I had ever experienced. It filled me with her forgiveness, her understanding, her love and a heartfelt promise, that again caused stirrings in my groin.

As she pulled away, I bit back a deep disappointment that the intimacy was broken. "Sleep. I will be here when you wake," she whispered, gently tracing her fingers over my eyes.

I succumbed to a sea of tranquillity where sleep claimed me once more.

The smell of cooking tantalized my senses, pulling me up from the depths of slumber. I could not place the aroma but it smelled good. My mouth started to water although I cannot say I was overly hungry. The door opened and in she walked carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of whatever it was she had prepared. She placed the tray on the dresser then she approached the bed.

     "Good afternoon, sleepy head," she said, a smile curving the corner of her mouth. "Can you manage to sit up?" She reached over me to grab the other pillow and I caught a glimpse of her breasts down the front of her top. I fought an involuntary response down below, yet again. 

Pressing my palms on the mattress I pushed myself up, grunting from the aches in my shoulder. I hoped she had not noticed my reaction to her closeness, for it seemed very inappropriate at that moment.

She plumped up the pillows behind me, settling me back against them very gently. I made a concentrated effort not to let my eyes drop from her face. She tucked strands of her hair behind her ear then laid the other pillow across my lap. In one way that was a relief.  I watched in silent awe as she moved over to the dresser, collected the tray then brought it over, resting it on the pillow upon my lap. Still, I kept my eyes on her face. 

There was an expression of quiet pleasure in her eyes as if she was enjoying nursing me. It was curious in a way, I felt as if she was a stranger, one dedicated to healing and tending the sick. Namely me! On the other hand, she was my Sarah, the mother of my son, the woman I loved, my partner, my life. She unfolded a napkin and draped it over my chest and shoulders. "Chicken noodle soup," she announced. "It was always what my mother made me when I was poorly."

All I could do was nod, I was transfixed. Perhaps I had just been in my avian form too long, but it was almost like being human was a novelty and this vision before me was nothing short of a miraculous dream. She dipped the spoon in the broth then lifted it to my lips. Her eyebrows raised as she looked at me askance.  

I offered a sheepish grin as I realised she was waiting for me to open my mouth. I accepted the broth. The warm soup slipped over my throat, the chicken enhanced by fresh herbs and seasonal vegetables. Simple, but extraordinarily flavoursome. She fed me more. 

Now and again her eyes met mine, the sparkle in them doing things to me beneath the pillow which I tried exceptionally hard to ignore. I thought talking may distract me. "How long have I been... human?" I asked, smirking at how utterly ridiculous my question sounded.

     "Two days," she replied, raising another spoonful of soup.

     "I have been asleep all that time?" I gasped. She tipped the broth into my mouth.

     "Uh huh. The first time you opened your eyes was four hours ago. " She let the spoon rest in the bowl and dabbed my mouth with the napkin before resuming her task of feeding me.

     "And, how long was I..." she tipped another spoonful in my mouth, a little quickly I thought.

     "Dead?" she asked. Her eyes unexpectedly narrowed, a hint of pain in them. Her question took me completely by surprise.

     "I was going to say -  _a raven_ ," I replied a little hesitantly. As I looked into her eyes, I suddenly saw it all with crystal clarity. I relived being trapped under the pillars of the Dark Portal, escaping by a hair's breadth. The wailer as I had called her had been Sarah! The desperate sounds of "Caagaw" played back in my mind again and again. Her tearful face haunted me, though I had not understood why, at the time.

Next, I recalled  Lor'themar Theron with his confidantes Grand Magister Rommath and Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing.  They had travelled from the elven lands in Quel'thalas to attend my funeral and I had rather cheekily hitched a lift on the Regent Lord's zeppelin.  They had speculated a momentous turnout for the service. 

Although I had been unable to witness it, I could somehow sense from Sarah's response a moment before, that it had indeed drawn an unimaginable number of people from both factions. Never had Horde and Alliance agreed to peacefully stand together within the gates of Stormwind.  _Never_.  But, more significant than that, this woman had stood in front of them all, suffering, grieving ... and all unnecessarily.

She trembled as she lifted the spoon to my mouth again but I shook my head, I wanted no more. "Please, put it aside," I asked her. She did as I asked and put the tray back on the dresser. She remained facing the window, silent, her hands in front of her, fingers lightly toying with each other.

For all my muscles and bones still ached, I nonetheless pushed myself up out of the bed. I needed to wrap myself around her, to offer comfort. She had grieved for me, had bravely borne the grief of countless others from my assumed death. Now she was nursing me back to health. 

_What must she be going through_ , I wondered. She was possibly even worrying about how she was going to explain to everyone that their grieving had been misplaced. That, on top of the other changes she had undergone, which I had never properly acknowledged and left her to deal with alone; it must have been an insurmountable amount of emotional turmoil for one to carry alone. 

**_Music: MOMENT OF LOVE by 2002_ **

The need to hold her was overwhelming at that moment. "Sarah," I said softly, reaching towards her. She turned. Before I knew it, her arms were around me and she was sobbing against my chest. I pulled her tight to me. If I could have somehow absorbed all her pain, I would have. "I'm so sorry to have left you to deal with everything.  _Please -_ forgive me. If I could turn back time, I would change it all ..."

She sniffed back the tears, their moisture warm against my skin. "I have had enough going back in time," came her muffled reply. "I never want to return there again. I want no future either, only the present,  _the here and now._   _This_ moment."

Lightly holding her shoulders I pulled back from her. She lifted her eyes to look at me and I saw the silvery rivulets tracing down her cheeks. So much grief and pain still held within. Gently, I wiped them away with my thumbs, then kissed the glistening residue and pulled her close to me again. For all she said she wanted the status quo to remain as it was, I still wished I could whisk us back and erase all that was upsetting and negative for her. 

But then it truly dawned on me; the magnitude of her pain was still to come. One day, we would be parted for good, and our son would also leave this life, leaving her alone to carry on, ageless, timeless. I understood why she wanted this moment to stay untouched, unblemished. My breathing shuddered as I acknowledged her pain was far from over, and again, and I was helpless to ease it.

I became acutely aware of her breath on my chest and the softness of her lips as they brushed against my skin. The small rush of warm air aroused me once more. I was at a loss. I wanted her,  _desperately_ , but I felt now was not the time. I mumbled an apology and turned from her. Her fingers curled around my hand, stopping me. I looked back, my face betraying my shame. Something akin to pleading resided in her eyes. Had she somehow interpreted my moving away as rejection? 

The need to reassure her came tumbling from my mouth in a pained incoherent whisper. "It's not that I don't want - I just thought, you wouldn't ... with all that's happened..." I felt oddly shy and awkward. An affronted twitch pulled at the corner of my mouth. She moved round in front of me, her hands on my chest, slowly sliding them up round my neck.

     "I have been afraid to touch you until this morning," she said, her eyes following where her hands traced over my skin. "Up until then, I feared you still weren't real, that I was dreaming and you'd end up vanishing in a puff of smoke. I was terrified I would wake up alone again." She  lay her head against my chest.

I had no concept of what she had went through, but when she spoke of her fear, I felt a crippling guilt that I had been the cause of yet more suffering. "Forgive me, Sarah, I  _never_ meant to hurt you.  Be rest assured, I'm going nowhere, not for very a long time anyway. I am here for you, and for Ocel. We are going to spend time as a family and I am going to shower you in whatever your heart desires."

She lifted her eyes to mine again and her lips parted in a soft smile. "All I desire is you," she said, her hands moving over my chest. The sensation of her touch stimulated my yearning again. I tried to divert my thoughts, to block out the need for the kind of intimacy my body was aching for; screaming for, if I was honest.

She moistened her lips as her eyes met mine. Her hands lifted to my face, tracing my brow, cheeks, nose and mouth. "I am as much in need of love..." she pulled back a little and glanced down between us. 

I felt a blush spread up from my chest at the less than subtle display of my avidity.  "... as you are." She giggled. Her eyes looked back up at mine. I felt a sheepish grin twitching as I tried to overcome my embarrassment. "But we should wait until you are recovered a little more at least," she said. "For now, just hold me and let me heal you."

She lay next to me, her markings glowing with gentle wisps of white gold, sparkling, floating, caressing me, easing my aches and pains. I felt as if I was being renewed, reborn. 

I could not take my eyes from her as she focused on healing me. I watched her face, her eyes exploring me, hands hovering over my body. It was as if she was giving herself to me in the most deeply spiritual way. 

As I felt myself tumbling towards the brink of sleep again, I heard her soft, heartfelt words, "I love you  _so_ much, Khadgar. You are home now. You are safe. With me."

 


	19. The Passion of an Archmage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit sexual scenes in this chapter

 

Next day as I emerged from the water closet, I just caught sight of her entering the bedroom with a tray and placing it on the dresser. I followed quietly, letting my robe slide from my shoulders to the floor as I slid in under the sheets, watching her as she opened the window.  I plumped and prodded the pillows so I could sit and observe her better.  I was pleased to notice my shoulder no longer hurt and overall my aches had lessened considerably.

I turned my eyes towards her again. The sight of her was overwhelming. She wore a sea green robe which wrapped around her and tied at the waist with finely pleated cords. The material, as delicate and fine as the voiles that fluttered inwards on the late spring breeze, danced around her form. 

She turned slowly, her eyes finding mine. Her smile was soft, a little teasing. My eyes drank her in as she moved towards me. I could see her slender figure beneath the delicate fabric - the long legs as they carried her towards the bed, the outline of her rather flimsy underwear, the sway of her hips, the gentle bounce of her breasts. My senses around her were heightened, I noticed everything in the minutest detail and my body responded in the only way it knew how. With a sheepish grin, I placed another pillow on my lap and saw her smirk at the action.  

 

 ** _Music: THE CRANE DANCE composed by Luvodico Einaudi_**  

 

She paused at the dresser and lifted the tray. As she neared me again I could see she carried a bowl with warm water, a shaving brush and soap, my razor and a towel. Carefully, she put the tray down on the bedside table. Taking the towel, she draped it around me, protecting my chest. "Good morning," she said, the curve of her lips sending small tremors through my body.

     "Morning," I replied, my voice somewhat husky. I swallowed.

Dipping a cloth in the bowl, she then dampened my face. I watched silently as she swirled the brush over the shaving soap block until the bristles were loaded.  My breathing deepened when, in slow circular movements she applied the creamy foam to my cheeks, above my top lip, my jawline and neck.  The soft neckline of her robe drew my eyes; the tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage too much to resist. Raising my chin with her left hand, she rested the razor against my cheek. "Trust me?" she asked.

I tore my eyes from her breasts to see her smiling, mischievously. "More than I do myself at this moment," I replied, the corners of my mouth twitching. I could not hide the tremor in my voice, but it was not from nervousness of her holding the razor against me.

She laughed lightly, then slowly pulled the razor down, keeping it at a perfect slant on my skin. The rasp of the blade over stubble was the only sound in the room, other than my heart pounding in my ears - excited by her touch.  She cleaned the razor on the towel and repeated the process until she was satisfied with her work on my cheeks, philtrum and jawline.  She had never done this before, but there was something profoundly sensual about her shaving me. My state of arousal was becoming almost uncomfortable, I was well aware of the rhythmic throb under the pillow.

     "Darling, stop clenching your jaw," she said. "I won't cut you." She gently lifted my chin once more to access my neck.

     "That's not why I'm clenching," I replied between gritted teeth. I caught a glimpse of her smirking again. She was enjoying this, although I was not entirely sure whether it was the shaving or the effect she was having on me that made her grin. 

 The feel of her bringing the blade up over the stubble towards my chin was erotic beyond words. She lightly ran her fingertips over the areas she had shaved to ensure she was happy with the result before taking the towel and cleaning off the excess lather. I once more glanced down her neckline as she leaned over to her side of the bed, to pick up a hand mirror.  _Sweet Elune!_  I thought. Restraint was very much bordering on impossible.

She handed me the mirror to inspect her handiwork, while she cleared away the tray to the dresser. I ran my hand over my cheeks and jaw, glancing only briefly at my face. The shave was good. Very good. I turned the mirror slightly and watched her reflection as she tidied everything on the tray. 

The light from the window passed through her robe accentuating every curve beneath the fine floating fabric. I lifted my eyes to the dresser's mirror and caught her looking at me.  The curve of her mouth full of promise, her eyes filled with intent.  I groaned. It was too much.

I could wait no more, I had to take her.  I had to love her. I threw the blanket aside and strode over to where she stood still busying herself cleaning the razor and covering the soap bar. She stopped the minute I grabbed her hips, a small gasp escaping her lips. Leaning down to her ear, I whispered hotly, "Is Ocel sleeping?"

She looked at me in the dressing table mirror. "Gwen has taken him out for the morning.  She won't be back until after lunch," she replied, her voice ending in a mere breath.

 

**_Music: AMADAS ESTRELLAS by Achillea_ **

 

I groaned again, pleased that we had precious time alone. Moving my hand around her waist I turned her to face me. Her eyes were dark, vibrant. Shifting my gaze down, her tongue coated her lips, making them glisten. 

The act almost made me fold. My fingers dug into her hips pulling her to me, and I focused on the promise of pleasure beneath her robe. I kissed her, hard, forcefully, my tongue invading her mouth. She responded hungrily, pushing against me, her hands clawing through my hair.

Pulling back, my eyes moved down to the pleated ties that held her robe closed. Grabbing the thin cords I pulled them apart, then let the thin straps slip from her shoulders. The robe fell soundlessly to the floor in soft folds. I tried to suppress my eagerness. 

My hands swept over her hips, waist and continued up until I reached her breasts. As I cupped them in my hands my need for her roared through every fibre of my being. The feel of her soft skin drove me wild; the pert, dark nipples demanding my attention.

My hands moved down around her back until my fingers squeezed the soft flesh of her buttocks. I lifted and pushed her back onto the surface of the dresser. Our eyes met for a heated moment. Her need seemed as desperate as mine, the dark almost black irises containing a hunger which matched my own. Again my mouth crashed over hers as my fingers came back up to tease and pluck at her nipples. Her sighs were swallowed in the kiss.

I broke contact brusquely, moving my mouth to her neck and down to her breasts. I could hear her moan as I took first one nipple into my mouth, cupping her other breast in my hand, squeezing it gently.  I moved my lips to the other. Her body felt divine. She sighed my name, urging me on, pleading. My tongue flicked the hardened bud, I could feel it pucker more in my mouth. 

I became aware her hand had closed around my member, pulling on me, steering me towards her. The soft touch of her fingers as her hand sheathed me caused my body to shudder.  My lips and tongue pleasured her neck as I enjoyed the sensation of her hand working me below.  I moved urgently against her hand, mumbling her name between kisses. 

I could delay no longer. I was ravenous. The urgency and the agony of longing had reached its peak.

I pulled her back down from the dresser and spun her round, impetuously, gripping the backs of her hands and pinning them to the wooden surface. I nipped the top of her shoulder with my teeth, then kissed it, allowing my tongue to trace up her neck to just below her earlobe. I remembered that drove her crazy. Her reflection confirmed my memory, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted in a soft smile, offering her neck for more.

The need to dominate her, possess her,  _own_ her, was urgent. I dropped my hands to the lacy rim of her panties. Curling my fingers round the narrow band I tugged hard, groaning with satisfaction as I felt them rip then come away in my hand. She gasped. Grinning at her in the mirror, I cast the ruined fabric to the floor.

Fixated on our reflections again, I watched her as my hands caressed the tops of her thighs, moving up until I felt her soft mound. I probed within. She was slick, ready. 

Her moans of flagitious desire were like a drug to me, making my hunger for her completely shameless. I pleasured her to the point she cried out. She clasped my hand which caressed her mound, driving me deeper within.  My need was desperate by then and moments later, I pulled my hand away and gripped her hips.

Our eyes locked in the mirror as I lowered her upper body to dresser level.  She sighed, brushing herself against me, offering me her body; wanting, longing.  

I positioned myself at her warm, inviting place and rammed inside her.  I was not gentle; such was my need to be one with her.  I yanked her hips back onto me, brutal, primitive, grunting with each savage thrust, the throb of desire intensifying with every pounding I delivered. She felt sublime.

 

To our left, the shaving water splashed over the lip of the bowl from our heated exertion, droplets sprinkling our hands and forearms but it's slopping sounds were lost in the vocal elucidation that was our sexual frenzy. 

The dresser banged against the wall with every plunge. The mirror showed our bodies' rippling reflections as it shuddered from the friction our ardent lovemaking induced. 

From somewhere outside my immediate focus I could hear her little bottles of cosmetics clinking and falling onto the wooden surface. One rolled off onto the floor.

I could not tear my eyes from our images in the mirror. Her eyes closed, her mouth moist, open, sighing. The sight of her in such ecstasy drove me on, feeding my hunger, my desire, my lust. I was going to climax soon, the race towards fulfilment was fast approaching. 

The need to be inside her had gone beyond urgent, it was crucial; as if my very existence had depended on it. I continued to plough into her as if trying to lose myself within and I heard her voice escaping in sharp gasps and rapturous cries.

Her slender body trembled against mine, her forearms flat against the wooden surface, hands splayed helping her keep balance. I felt her clamp and pulse around me drawing me deeper inside, her salacity being sated. 

In response, the tightness in my groin suddenly imploded and my seed flooded into her. I was even more vocal as I yielded to the fervent rush of my release. I grabbed the edge of the dresser for support. My legs felt weak but I remained inside her, my thrusts slowing. The aftermath of sexual gratification flowed and ebbed over me like a warm ocean on a summers night, lapping the shore.

Spent, I leaned down, my chest heaving against her back. My hands reached for her breasts and cupped them, squeezing them gently, lovingly. 

The intensity of my release had almost made me collapse and I suddenly worried how my brutish carnality had made her feel. " _Sorry_ ," I panted, kissing the back of her neck and tracing my tongue along her shoulders, my eyes searching for hers in the mirror.

     "For  _what_?" she whispered breathlessly. Her reflection stared back at me; strands of long hair clamped to the side of her face, skin glistening, flushed from our passion. Her lips parted as her breathing rushed out in little bursts.

     "I was too rough. I - I should have been tender with you." I leaned my face against the soft indentation between her shoulder blades. My brow was awash with perspiration, as was my chest.

I heard her make a long contented sound then soft laughter tumbled from her mouth. "Khadgar! Do you hear me  _complaining_?" Her eyes locked with mine in the mirror again. I could not help but smile and then I planted small kisses on her shoulders. She continued. "If you insist on being tender, however ..." rolling her shoulders and sighing as my lips brushed her skin, "...we still have plenty of time."

I eased from her and turned her around. Taking her face in my hands I pulled her to me. Our mouths hovered, mere breaths from each other, mirth still playing at the corners of our lips. I felt her arms surrounding me, her fingers kneading my back. I held her, savouring the moment, her closeness, her hunger, her acceptance of me.  After all we had been through in the past weeks, she was still my salvation, in oh, so many ways.

     "I  _missed_ you so much," she said, a note of hunger laced with melancholy echoing in her voice. "I cannot begin to tell you how overjoyed I am now you have returned to me, but I  _can_ show  you." Pulling away, she took my hand and guided me to the bed. She turned, kissed me softly, lightly stroking my face before she lay down and raised her arms, inviting me.

I craved more and closing my eyes, the need to be one with her consumed me once again. I loved her slowly,  tenderly, ensuring she derived as much pleasure as I did before I blissfully flowed into her for a second time. 

I was home. Safe. With the woman I loved more than life itself. My sanctuary. My dream. My Sarah. "I love you," I whispered against her ear as I inhaled the scent from her hair. I meant those words with everything I was, everything I could be, owned and dreamed of.

Her fingers traced over my chest. "And I you, so much more than you know." She paused, then a small chuckle fell from her lips. "Are you going to write about this in my book?" she asked, her mischievous eyes glancing up to find mine.

     "You liked the journal then?" I was most pleased she had read the sentiments meant for her eyes only.

     "It is beautiful, Khadgar. Thank you. So will you?"

     "Do you want me to?" I smiled and pulled her tighter into my arms, planting a kiss on top of her head.

     "Yes." She turned her face up to meet mine. "And I want  _every_ detail," she grinned, curling her leg over mine and wrapping her arms around me.

I laughed softly. "Then your wish is my command." With her body moulded against mine, we lay for a while, dozing a little, before once more, we expressed the depth of love we felt for each other.


	20. Would You Consider

I woke as I felt my arm being shifted. Movement at my side caused the warmth on my body to dissipate. My eyes peeled open to find Sarah sitting on the edge of the bed. "And where do you think you're going?" I asked, rising and pulling her back against me.

I felt her soft laughter ripple across my chest. "I have to get up. Gwen will be arriving back soon," she explained turning to face me.

I swept a strand of errant hair behind her ear then traced my fingers over her cheeks and jaw. I was still in awe of her. To find she had never lost faith in me, had never stopped loving me despite all that had happened, gave me an entirely different and very welcome sense of self-worth. I was no longer the de-humanised Archmage. I was the man Khadgar again and more complete now than I had ever been.

The unavoidable questions, however, were needing to be asked now. "How are we going to broach the subject of my 'return'?" I said, stroking her cheek.

She looked at me for the longest time it seemed. Then smiled. "No dramatics really, perhaps a small party to make it known though? Modera and the Kirin Tor already know..."

"What?" I was astounded.

"I discussed it with Illidan once he helped you transform and ..."

I held up my hand to interrupt. Illidan? It was not he who I remembered standing over me in my study and chanting the ancient scripts. I caught the look of concern on her face. I smiled reassurance. "I have a very vague recollection of being in my study during the spell but I do not recall Illidan being there. There was an elf certainly but ..."

Her face brightened. Her fingers traced my brow and down to my mouth. "I will explain later," she said softly.

The sound of a door banging shut and the unmistakable dwarven twang shouting along the hall announced Gwen's arrival. Sarah quickly disengaged herself from my arms. "I must see to Gwen and Ocel."

"Shall I come too?"

"No. I think our friends should all be together when we announce your resurrection. I will invite them to dinner."

"I want to see Ocel."

"Once Gwen leaves, come through and you will hold your son again." She leaned down and kissed me, her lips soft and warm. She finished dressing and left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

I flopped back on the pillows. Smiling to myself, I felt oddly revitalised, as if the entire journey from the Dark Portal had somehow given me a new lease of life. It was either that or down to the last few hours spent holding the woman I loved with every ounce of my being. Either way, I actually appreciated how good it was to be a man again. I had Sarah, and my son Ocel. Supposing there was nothing and no-one else, I realised they were all that truly mattered. I now fully understood my friend's sentiments. Vindicator Ocel and his words of wisdom would forever guide me.

I listened to the chatter coming from the living room. Gwen was her usual buoyant self, always upbeat, enthusiastic about everything. She would be a good influence on my son, there was no mistake there. It could be some time, however, before she left, and I knew Sarah would not be rude in asking her to leave before Gwen's customary recount of her walk with Ocel was concluded.

I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I heard my bones and joints creak as I stretched, but there were no more aches, nor pains.

Catching my reflection in the dressing table mirror I leaned in for a closer look. I smiled. Running a hand over my cheeks and jaw I reaffirmed she had indeed shaved me well. Standing straight I turned from side to side. There was also no mistaking I had shed a few pounds and was almost 'taut' again.

Somewhat pleased by what I saw, I crossed to the wardrobe where I pulled out a pale blue shirt, tan britches and got dressed. I crossed the room to the door. Tucking my shirt into the britches I listened keenly to ascertain where Sarah and Gwen were in the house. The low mumblings suggested they were still along in the living room.

I wanted to go to my study. It was in the opposite direction from where Sarah and Gwen were located, so I estimated I could make it safely along the hall and slip inside without them seeing me. I did not want to scupper plans Sarah had for a dinner evening where everyone would know of my return at the same time.

I actually tiptoed along the hall. Something I hadn't done since I was a child, and I must admit, it felt strangely delightful. Once inside my study, I quietly closed the door, then turned and leaned against it.

I inhaled sharply. The residue of the powerful magic conjured in the room days before was still present, I could sense it. My whole body could sense it. The hairs on my arms prickled and I watched as goose bumps spread over my skin. To say I was surprised by this discovery was an understatement. I would have thought it should have dissipated by now.

I moved into the centre of the room. As I neared my desk the tingling grew ever so slightly stronger. Glancing at the floor I saw scorch marks. They bore the semblance of runic symbols. I touched the wooden boards. A ripple ran up my arm. I smiled. Yes, this was where I had undergone the transformation.

Connecting with the area hurtled my mind into a recall. I saw myself – a raven; distorting; elongating; expanding. I watched as my flesh tore then healed, feathers and skin being absorbed, renewed and pulled apart once more. I declare I felt quite nauseous witnessing my torment.

My eyes moved from the floor and I fixated on Atiesh, the Great Guardian staff which I had inherited from Medivh. It leaned against the bookshelves. Something pulled me towards it, some invisible force, no doubt all part of the powerful magic still lingering in the room. As my hand closed around it, again I bore witness to the past.

**_Music: In The Moment || Fridrik Karlsson_ **

I saw the purple-skinned elf clear as day before me. He was enormous, with a well-muscled torso and arms. His hair, long and black, was tied up in a high knot. But his eyes! Never had I seen such intense eyes – amber. They burned like molten lava, oozing power, knowledge, millennia of experience.

The image flickered, rippled. Next, I saw Illidan. He turned to the pedestal. On it was the journal I had left behind for Sarah and in which I had stored the Thalassian Secret. He recited the incantations. Crossing the room he collected Atiesh. He returned to the spot in front of me again, but once more it was the amber-eyed elf who stood before me.

I was confused. I could not comprehend what my mind was trying to tell me. I turned round, and there I saw Sarah - just her image. She was distraught shouting at the elf not to use the staff.

I turned again as he pounded it on the floor. Sarah's protests still sounded in my head. Now, however, it was Illidan who used the staff in the same way as the elf. Then finally the amber eyes returned again and the elf hit the base of the staff on the floor one last time.

The images vanished. I spun around. Nothing. No-one. Atiesh was still in my hand.

"It  _was_  Illidan you saw," Sarah's voice surprised me from behind. She was smiling, approaching me slowly. I gathered from her appearance in the study it meant Gwen had left.

I simply could not form the words I was trying to speak. She reached me and removed Atiesh from my grip, replacing it back against the books. Taking my hands she led me to the desk and sat me down in the chair. She perched her bottom on the edge of the desk and swept her thumbs over my knuckles. "Illidan is not as you remember him, Khadgar. Neither is Arcaena. They have been de-demonised." She laughed lightly. "If there is such a word. He is as he used to be. A night elf sorcerer, very powerful indeed and completely and utterly at your service should you need him."

My face must have said it all, for I was still lost for words. She continued to explain how Illidan had been questioning the point of his own existence once the Burning Legion had been defeated.

When the Void came into being, he felt he once more had a purpose. It was foretold he would stand in the light and defeat the enemy.

I nodded as I recalled that from the time we had visited Shattrath, when Sarah had requested the Naaru's help in restoring Illidan's spirit from The Twisting Nether to his physical body. They had spoken then of the Void and Illidan's role.

That "light" turned out to be the benign spirits descending from the Twisting Nether, who, with both Illidan and her help were called forth through the power of the Naaru. Again I nodded. That, I could recall. An involuntary shudder ran over me as I remembered her levitating form, surrounded by the blinding light amid all the destruction with the very ground erupting and disappearing around us.

The next revelation made me very humble indeed. Illidan had felt profound guilt in not having reached me in time before the Dark Portal collapsed. He'd blamed himself for my "death". It once more opened the doors of doubt and self-loathing. He decided to step down as Lord of the Illidari. In doing so, he requested of the Naaru that they end his existence. With his being immortal, only they had the power to erase him.

I finally found my voice. "But it was not his fault that the portal collapsed or that I was trapped."

"I know," she agreed. "But he thought otherwise. Illidan had been imbued with tremendous power, not only from the skull of Gul'dan and countless soul essences he's absorbed over the years, not forgetting his own infinite power in the manipulation of magic but also from the Naaru themselves." She reached forward and stroked my cheek. I nuzzled against her palm. "To have that kind of power Khadgar and yet fail in saving one who had been instrumental in his own rescue, was too much for Illidan to bear."

She stood up, pulling me with her. We left the study and she led me along the hall. She continued to tell me how Illidan became a night elf again. "I saw his torment, felt it. I think when he aided in my survival after the Twisting Nether, a link was formed between us; like twins I guess. I was visited by the Naaru. Incredible is it not, that such celestial beings thought to seek me out? But it was because they thought so highly of you, my love, that they did so. They asked if they could do anything to help. So I told them I suspected Illidan was at an all-time low and feared he would approach them with a request to end his time."

We had reached the nursery and there in his crib lay my son. She guided me over to him. He was sound asleep, breathing softly, his legs and arms akimbo, twitching a little in dreams. I ached to hold him, but I knew now I had time, and as he was sleeping I did not wish to disturb him. I turned to Sarah. "Go on, please."

"Remember Tiene?" she asked.

I thought for a moment. "Yes. The little blonde demon hunter from Quel'thalas."

"That's right. She was once married and she loved her husband very dearly. He was killed during the Third War. She knew that once a demon hunter, always a demon hunter even in death. However, for her contribution to the war against the Legion, Illidan absorbed the demon from her, enabling her to do what she wished." Her voice hitched.

I saw tears forming in her eyes. I pulled her to me and held her gently, allowing her time to compose herself. "She wanted to join her husband in the Twisting Nether. By releasing her from her demon, she was able to do so. It was her spirit who inhabited Bernie, the redhead with Drew. And he was host to Camnath, Tiene's husband." I felt her tremble against me. I remembered her telling me the tale of Illidan and Tyrande and how he'd ached from unrequited love - she'd cried at that too. For all her feisty behaviour at times, she was such a hopeless romantic, was my Sarah. 

"I didn't know about Tiene or her husband, Sarah. I'm sorry." I continued to hold her close.

I felt her nodding acceptance against my chest. "I caught a glimpse of the man Illidan once was when he met Lhadral and Rishuul." She continued.  "The way he reacted to the cat - for a moment it seemed like he was transported to his past, a time perhaps where he was happy and had special memories." She sniffed loudly before progressing. "So, I asked the Naaru to do the same for Illidan as he had done for Tiene. I hoped a new chance and an opportunity to live as he once did might help him see he was still highly thought of and in no way to blame for your ... presumed death. As it happens, Arcaena too has been de-demonised so she can be with him, always."

I was lost for words once more. Throughout all her pain, her grieving, she had still found it in her heart to think of what others were going through, namely Illidan and Arcaena. I felt dreadful that he had considered himself responsible for what happened at the Dark Portal, it was something I had not even anticipated. I thought I had planned everything carefully. I was more than thankful that Sarah was able to fill the gaps which I had been incapable of foreseeing.

A small gurgle from the crib made us look at Ocel. He was wide awake, kicking his legs and waving his arms. Sarah pulled back, managing a doting smile. She lifted him and we stood there – mother, father and son, embracing the fact we were reunited. She pressed him to me and I took him from her. 

He chortled happily, much to my relief; I had half expected him to cry for some reason. As it turned out, it was I who shed tears. But they merely expressed my joy. I was elated to be holding my son and standing next to my ... partner. 

An urge overcame me, and for once I decided to go with it, without stopping to analyse everything. There really was no need - for this. "Sarah," I said, smiling.

"Yes?" She cooed at Ocel, letting him grab on to her finger as I held him in the crook of my arm.

I tried not to laugh, but the memory of the term still tickled me to that day. She looked at me, brow furrowed, utterly bewildered by my sudden and unexpected rise of humour. 

I cleared my throat and waited until I could speak without the mirth ruining the moment. "Would you consider becoming Mrs Khadgar?"


	21. Duties

Next day, I witnessed Sarah panic for the first time in a very long while. The unmistakable sound of a portal arriving in our home reached our ears and she was in a state of increasing disquietude as it escalated.

We were in the living-room, I was holding Ocel and the shimmering magical conveyance manifested directly in front of me. I felt no concern for I could sense its source. I simply stepped back a little and drew Ocel's attention to the swirling effervescent pool of azure, violet and green. I quickly looked at Sarah. Her face displayed irritation but I could see she was also trying to mask it.

Two individuals emerged. Modera and Kalecgos. I was most pleased to see them and going by their expressions the feeling was reciprocated.

I was momentarily taken by surprise when Modera swept forward as if to hug me. At the very last moment, she simply clasped my free hand in both of hers and smiled – warmly.

"Khadgar!" she breathed, shaking my hand enthusiastically. "I am  _so_  happy to see you up and about again. Welcome back Archmage. We are truly –  _euphoric_  that you are returned to us."

I chanced another glance at Sarah. It seemed her mood was not improved by Modera's proclamation. Inwardly I sighed. Her recent reluctance for me to meet with others – others with whom I had a strong affiliation with no less - was most perplexing at times.

Modera's continuance of shaking my hand drew me back to her. "Thank you, Modera. It is equally wonderful to be back I can assure you."

Kalecgos stepped forward and offered his hand also. Modera let go after a moment's hesitation. The half elf's handshake was firm and sincere. "I cannot tell you how pleased we all were when Modera broke the news to us." He said with a broad, friendly smile.

"And here was I thinking you would all be relieved the old boy was gone." I laughed.

"You do yourself an injustice Archmage. Your leadership is second to none and highly revered." A flash in his blue eyes informed me he just suffered a stab of guilt following that statement. I knew his thoughts had flown back to Jaina – their affair was no secret but it was not something he discussed openly either. It just – was.

"Please, both of you take a seat and tell me how things have been." I gestured to the sofa and chairs.

Sarah offered a measured smile to both then announced she would bring some refreshments before she vanished into the kitchen.

Kalecgos' eyes fixed on Ocel. "Your son is very much like you, Archmage."

"Why thank you. You are the second person to say that, most see him like Sarah. And erm, please address me as Khadgar when you are in my home."

The former Aspect nodded his obeisance as did Modera. They proceeded to tell me how the news of my survival had been greeted.

On the day Sarah and Illidan had invited her over to our house to reveal the fact, Modera, on her return to Dalaran, had called upon the members of The Six to attend in the Chamber of Air.

Initially, there had been a profound silence. I stifled a smirk as I listened, clearly visualising the characteristic contumaciousness of the group as it slowly gave way to complete gratification knowing that their leadership was not up for renewal after all.

According to the two mages, they were all equally keen to have their leader back, but Modera had advised them I was still recovering. As such, Sarah had not wanted me moved. They voiced their full understanding of her decision and were equally empathetic with her reasoning.

This surprised me. Not the fact Sarah had refused my being moved to Dalaran; that much I understood and accepted. Nor did the High Council's indulgence of the situation amaze me.

What did strike a note was Modera's compassion in the matter. Renowned for her scorn towards 'relationships' involving members of the Kirin Tor, I found myself intrigued by what had changed in her. I knew it was not an appropriate time to engage in such a pursuit, but I made a mental note to do so at a later date.

Quite why it fascinated me was a mystery in itself, but perhaps having been removed from the community during my avian journey it had opened a new direction for my curiosity; the complexity of human emotions.

Sarah arrived back in the living room with a tray of "nibbles" as she called them – small pastries and savouries and one or two sugary ones for the discerning sweet-tooth (namely me). Both Modera and Kalecgos preferred soft drinks to wine at this time of day, so we all enjoyed some Arcberry juice, recently imported from Suramar.

As Ocel had unexpectedly dozed off, Sarah lifted him from me and placed him on the sofa between us, covering him carefully with a soft blanket. She then sat down and listened to our conversation.

The inevitable question was asked. "How long before you are back in office?" Modera asked, her eyes flitting over to Sarah. I caught the look in Sarah's eyes and it was one of quiet impendence.

"As soon as possible, Modera." I replied. I felt, more than saw Sarah tense. Not wanting to draw attention to it, however, I pursued news of the 'outside' world.

The High Council now had to consider how to counteract any pending questions and suppositions cast upon the lack of leadership in the Kirin Tor. Fortunately, they were being given a compassionate leave if you will, from making such a decision. But it would not be too long before perspicuity was demanded throughout the various magical communities. It was therefore paramount that my resurrection was made known before much longer.

I had hoped they also had some news about Draenor for all the Dark Portal was destroyed. It had been the physical doorway, yes, but the rift between the worlds had to be located somewhere – it had survived before. The location of such remained unknown at this time, they reported.

"Hopefully, Drek'thar made it through the attack from the Void and is also trying to uncover the rift. I think it would be prudent to offer aid to the people, so I want that rift pinpointed sooner rather than later." I voiced.

"Yes. There are, however, other matters which I think will take precedence." Kalecgos announced.

"Such as?"

The former Aspect looked to Modera before continuing. That brief glance forewarned me that it was something serious.

"There is trouble at Lordaeron. The Forsaken have bolstered their numbers and the Horde have descended upon the old city in droves under the command of Warchief Sylvanas."

"It would seem familiar feuds have raised their heads again, Khadgar," Modera injected.

I felt a crippling disappointment and that was putting it mildly. I had hoped with all that we had achieved together against the Burning Legion and the Void, there would be a willing renunciation of age-old hostilities. Yet again, I had gravely under-estimated the bitterness between races. Or, to be more accurate, some of the leaders.

"And what says Varian to this?" I asked.

"Anduin wishes to take up the Alliance's banner for this Khadgar," Kalecgos said.

"What?" I stood so suddenly, my movement stirred Ocel from his slumber.

"I will tend to him," Sarah said. She gave a curt nod to our guests then picked him up and disappeared into the nursery.

I inadvertently sighed audibly.

"Do not!" Modera said quietly, holding my gaze.

I stared at her, astonished at the woman's utterance. She smiled at me. Had it been anyone other than Modera I would have viewed it as a warm smile, but the classic ice queen persona she possessed made the expression appear somewhat forced. Unfair of me I supposed, but some things were going to take time for me to adjust to. "I saw first-hand her pain when she thought she'd lost you at the Dark Portal, Khadgar." She said in a whisper.

Her words took the wind from my sails. "She loves you very deeply, allow her time to adjust to yet another change."

I think my mouth went slack but Kalecgos saved the moment by stating that it was time for them to return to Dalaran. He promised to keep me informed of the status quo further north. Then with another heartfelt shake of hands, they left the way they arrived.

 

**_Music: Before I Leave This World || Ivan Torrent_ **

The next couple of days were frustrating, to say the least. Sarah was attentive, although much quieter since the visit from my colleagues. But she still insisted on maintaining a degree of normality - which meant continuing life as if I was no longer part of it - yet.

It was very odd having to be 'invisible' to the world. Even odder now that the entire High Council at the Kirin Tor knew I lived. More infuriating again, since I had heard about the pending unrest in Lordaeron.

Furthermore, the one individual I sorely hoped would visit did not. Illidan - having been the individual to return me to my human form conspicuously stayed well away. I suspected his absence was influenced by Sarah. Quite why I had not yet worked out.

Admittedly, I was inordinately curious to see him as his 'former self' – as a night elf, untainted by demonic characteristics and traits. I did wonder somewhat, if he felt slightly less than himself, however, having forsaken the mantle of Betrayer, Lord of Outland and Leader of the Illidari.

His help I also suspected, would be most welcome in the threatening rise of war once more. Primarily, however, I was desperate to speak with him – to thank him apart from anything else.

Sarah was insistent on announcing my survival at some lavish dinner party. Initially, I could understand her thinking; wanting those closest to us to know first and all at the same time, but as time went on, my being cooped up – in effect, hiding, was driving me insane. A day later I was at breaking point.

I sat on the sofa with Ocel beside me amid a collection of cuddly toys ranging from sheep to camels to murlocs. He chortled happily as I played hide and seek with him from behind a cushion even though my mind was not on the game.

I heard Sarah continuing to plan this resurrection party - and I became agitated.

"This is ridiculous Sarah," I said - not unkindly, but firmly. She looked at me as if I had just insulted her. I instantly felt guilty for she had been putting a lot of thought into this plan of hers. But things were changing and if past events were anything to go by, then war would be upon us soon enough.

Granted she had come to realise that in organising this event, people may question why a recently bereaved woman would be organising a party. She'd had intentions of ordering a marquee, caterers, floral displays, musicians – I put my foot down at that, however. I was not having the neighbourhood subjected to some dire off-key musicians and complaining about the noise.

"But, this is necessary Khadgar. I – I do not want your survival drip-fed to those who mean so much to us. Imagine how Gwen and Erik would feel if for example Estelle the nanny and your groupies knew about you being alive before they did?"

"My  _what_?" I asked. I had no idea to whom she referred.

"Your female fan club in the city!" she huffed.

Ordinarily, I would no doubt have found that amusing, even flattering, but not at this moment in time. "It's easily solved, Sarah. Just inform Gwen when she next collects Ocel and she'll trundle off up to the cottage and tell Erik. He's not  _that_  precious about being the first to know everything."

"Well I beg to differ," she said haughtily. "Besides if we told Gwen - bless her - the whole of Stormwind would know before she even reached the gates."

"And where exactly would the harm in that be?"

" _The whole bloody city mourned you_!" She responded sharply.

Unfortunately, it made me react similarly. "Haven't I been dead long enough! People need me, Sarah!" The sharpness of my tone startled Ocel and he began to cry.

It also upset Sarah. "I need you too," she whimpered. Immediately, she came over and lifted Ocel then almost stomped out the living room heading towards the nursery.

I quickly followed. "Sarah!"

"I don't want to talk about it!" She sniffed, her voice breaking.

I waited until she placed Ocel in his crib then I grabbed her and pulled her to me. She tried to push away, her hands on my chest and her face turned from me.

I was not for letting this go unresolved. I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes rippled with the white gold light of the Naaru. It took me a little by surprise, but I held on to her.

"I am not trying to be awkward here Sarah and I understand why you want to do things this way but ..."

Her eyes flared. Still, I would not be dissuaded from saying my piece. "Things are getting serious out there and I was caged  _often enough when I was a damn bird_ , I don't want any more barriers!"

She choked back a sob, then another. I had not expected that. My tone immediately softened and I wrapped my arms around her. "Don't you see? I know there never seems to be much of a break in the troubles that plague this world but I need to be involved in the war effort. I  _must_ head the Kirin Tor and play my part in the defence of the realm."

I pulled back a little. Tears were tracing down her cheeks. I gently kissed them away. "Sarah, I want to walk with you in the public gardens, go for all sorts of outings with you, picnics, boat rides you name it. And  _we will_  – one day, I promise.

"I want us to  _live_. I want our life back; you, me and our son because now I finally understand what that means! But I have to also be who I am."

"Leader of the Kirin Tor," she whispered, a wan smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

For a few moments, a crystal silence hung over us. I gently run my hands over her arms then pulled her into my embrace again. I felt the tension leave her.

She sighed against my chest. "I'm sorry, Khadgar." She said. "I didn't think it through from your perspective and I guess – I guess I wanted to keep you to myself for as long as I could. I didn't want to share you - not yet."

I felt her arms circle me, her fingers kneading the back of my shirt. We stood, enjoying each other's warmth, both mellowing as we absorbed our different needs.

"Sarah, I came to realise I had overlooked many basic things in my rather – 'academic assumptions' when I put the necessary clues in place for you and Illidan to find. Please - hear me out."

She remained in my arms and listened as I explained. I had not made allowances for my avian senses causing simple confusion. Initially more bird than a transformed man, it took me time to adjust and recognise items, words and behaviours of the human condition.

As such it had added to my negligent consideration that time would have inadvertently made everyone believe I had died in the collapsed Dark Portal.

To my shame, my attention to detail was deficient; her pain and grief not having been deliberated within my estimation of coming events. I had gravely underestimated the strength of her love and the commensurate importance I had somehow established by becoming part of her life.

In truth, I had almost been responsible for my own demise through an autogenetic and often ignorant perspective of fundamental needs; the detachment from basic emotions which I had blindly adopted over the years. The de-humanisation of Archmage Khadgar, as it were.

My failings as a man were tantamount to a newborn child in many aspects and I stood before her now, a humbled being. But, I simply could not remain hidden any longer.

She was, without doubt, my saviour, my new-found strength and she had awarded me an insight to life far greater than anything I had ever gleaned from my dedicated study of books, scrolls and field research.

Nonetheless, not only had I been absent from my home, family and friends for two weeks, but also from life itself - ever since I could remember really.

I breathed with relief once my new-found discernment was confessed in full and I bore no shame from admitting my inadequacies; in fact, I actually felt an air of grandiloquence.

I thought of the people I had met during my avian journey and offered an alternative idea. "May I suggest something?" I asked as I combed my fingers through her hair.

She pulled back a little and looked up at me. Her eyes were gentle, the soft curve of her lips drawing my attention. "What?" She asked.

I cupped her face in my hands again and lightly traced her bottom lip with my thumb. She nuzzled against my hand. Even with a strong difference of opinion, we could not remain on opposing sides for long.

"Well," I started, acutely aware that a certain little pair of eyes were watching us closely; Ocel gurgled happily as if to confirm my supposition. "I met some very considerate and infinitely kind people when I was in raven form. I would very much like them to know that they too played a huge part in our reunion."

"But ..." she began to protest.

Shaking my head, I softly pressed my forefinger against her mouth. Her lips curled up at the corners with another smile. "I will compromise Sarah. You know I simply have to portal to and from Dalaran to work with my Archmages. I have to also let Varian know I am alive."

Her breath hitched but she did not interrupt me.

"Furthermore, I will not make light of the friendships we have forged over time Sarah, but I wish to take you and our son to meet these other individuals I spoke of.

"Without them, Illidan may not have been able to complete the necessary ritual to return me to my human self. And I would not, therefore, be able to take up my rightful place – with you, our son and also to carry out the duties I am responsible for with the Kirin Tor - as the Leader I am."

Slowly, she nodded acceptance.

"Soon we will portal around our friends and announce I'm back - expressing, of course, my profound apologies to everyone," I smirked.

I was under no delusion that the upset people had felt would not be so easily forgotten nor overlooked, but I did hold out hope that there would be at least understanding especially as more important matters were now forging ahead.

"Afterwards," I continued, "why do we not invest all your hard work in organising a gathering of friends to become part of our wedding celebrations instead? Supposing we are to have a simple wedding for now - for I do truly wish to make you my wife - then after this well ... whatever it becomes is over,  _then_  we will have the most amazing wedding celebration. I promise you."

Somehow, I think I made a good impression with that suggestion.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, currently this is where I am up to in Raven, so please be patient while I write the last chapters. I will post as soon as I can. Thank you for coming this far...


	22. Best Intentions

 

It was agreed that the next day we would meet those individuals I had spoken of.

Sarah said she would visit Gwen at the cottage to ask if she would mind skipping the morning strolls with Ocel for a couple of days, making out she had something pre-arranged. She was noticeably worried about this for fear of offending the woman. She needn't have worried though, for Gwen had been more than understanding and had told her she would come by at the beginning of the week.

So next day arrived and with a bag containing change of clothes and drinks for Ocel, we were ready to embark on our little adventure. There was a particular individual, however, whom I was most insistent on seeing first. One, whom I had a suggestion to put to. Illidan.

I had worn a simple cloak over my more than casual attire, so not to draw too much attention. I had made a compromise with Sarah and did not wish all un-sundry to know of my return yet until we had duly notified those we wished to be in the know. 

I conjured a portal to Suramar and slipping my arm around Sarah's waist I pulled up the hood to keep my identity concealed. I moved forward but Sarah stood rigid. I looked at her questioningly.

She smiled warmly and slid the hood from my head. "No," she said. "No more hiding. We will deal with any questions as they come from whatever source."

"But I thought..."

She shook her head. "No, you were right. Our friends are understanding people and they will not squabble about who knew first. I do, however, agree that the person you need to see after we visit all your "new friends", should be King Varian."

I smiled, then I kissed her. "Very well," I agreed. "But, I wish to see Illidan first of all."

She nodded, smiling.

We arrived only a few yards from the house where Illidan had taken Sarah all those months ago. His new abode was only a short distance away.

Ocel had already dozed off, snuggled close to Sarah's breast as she carried him in the sling.

I felt profound enlightenment as we walked the paved streets. Here I was, walking side by side with the woman I loved fiercely and our beloved son. Although it was not the first time we had embarked upon a family outing, remarkably it felt as if it was. I felt like a proud peacock; puffing out its chest and displaying its grandeur by strutting and fanning out its resplendent tail. I did not, I hasten to add, puff out my chest nor did I strut, but the emotions associated with such a display were firing within me with an ever-increasing pulse.

We greeted people as we passed by; a polite nod of the head, a quiet "hello" and each was returned in kind. One or two stared. I assume they thought I looked familiar although no-one stepped forward to enquire. They simply whispered between themselves. I glanced at Sarah. Her lips curved into a soft knowing smile. I took her hand in mine and we continued over a small footbridge.

A few yards to the right of that, a winding path led us through exquisite gardens. The sweet perfume from Starlight Roses filled the air. Their soft pastel shades dotted among the deep green waxen foliage formed an extensive archway which opened to a large ornate courtyard.

Illidan seemed to like his luxury. I could not help but smile. He certainly deserved it after all he had endured and suffered.

On approach to the front door of the opulent abode, we heard someone roar. From the right, we saw a seven and a half foot Night Elf come running around the side of the building. Ahead of him by a few yards was a young Nightsaber bounding straight towards us. It was merely a cub but it certainly gave the Elf a run for his money.

It was actually extremely amusing watching the little cub darting about trying to outrun the elf.

"Is that...?" I asked Sarah.

"Yes," she replied laughing. "That's Illidan."

It was then the amber eyes locked with mine. Instantly, he stopped chasing the Nightsaber and came to a halt a short distance from us. His mouth curved into a broad smile; I could see the characteristic fangs of the elven race glinting in the morning sun.

"Khadgar!" he enthused. He stepped up to me and gripped my hand in a firm handshake. "It is so good to see you up and around."

I was in awe of him. The transformation, or rather, de-transformation was utterly incredible. Images of the Elf in my study flashed over my inner vision –  _this_  was the man certainly who I had seen performing the ritual. My mind was just having a little difficulty accepting it was one and the same as Illidan Stormrage.

He towered above me still, and I was, as ever, considerably less muscular than him. "Illidan," I said, my voice betraying the utter amazement at his new appearance. "You look... you look..."

"I –." He paused. "How was it you put it, Sarah?" he asked her.

"Brush up well," she laughed beside me. I nodded in agreement. "And I think Modera would agree with that," she added in a whisper.

I stared at her. She grinned. "Oh, I think he has made quite the impression on her."

"Sarah,  _please_!" Illidan whispered back.

"Don't worry I wouldn't let anything slip in front of Arcaena. But she will have to get used to other females ogling you as will you at men staring at your gorgeous wife."

Illidan nodded with a slightly embarrassed smirk. It seemed his de-demonising had made him susceptible to Sarah's teasing. I had to admit, it was rather amusing.

"I've got her!" A shout came from behind us. I turned to see a beautiful Night Elf walking towards us holding a NIghtsaber cub in her arms. The woman's lop-sided smile told me who she was straight away. I felt my mouth twitching at the corners.

Sarah nudged me. When I looked at her she was grinning. "See? Told you Illidan, watch out."

I laughed, although there was a slight nervousness in the sound. Sarah rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, for goodness sake!"

Illidan laughed along with her. I duly joined their mirth.

"Khadgar!" Arcaena greeted me. She immediately pressed the Nightsaber into my arms. "Perfect timing!" she grinned. " _You_  can deliver this little rascal. Oh! Forgive me!" She gave me a peck on the cheek. "Wonderful to see you breathing again." She giggled.

I do not know what I expected but the welcome from them both was simply incredible. We were all smiling and laughing within moments and the atmosphere was very relaxed. They steered us towards their home. "Erm, what did you mean "You can deliver this little rascal" by the way?" I asked Arcaena as the Nightsaber nuzzled my hand.

"Sorry, Khadgar," Arcaena said. "Illidan has been on a mission to find a new companion for Lhadral."

"No, not a companion, Arcaena," Illidan corrected her.

"A pet then," she said with a smirk. "For hunting with."

My blank expression must have said it all. Sarah explained the horrible incident at the Dark Portal. I was sad to hear the news, I knew how much the hunter had loved his pet. I glanced down at the cub in my arms.

"This cub is for Lhadral?" I asked.

"Yes," Illidan nodded. "I hope he will find her acceptable."

"Oh, I am sure he will. She is beautiful."

Illidan's thoughtfulness in the situation quite overwhelmed me. Perhaps having known him as the former Lord of Outland, Leader of the Illidari, I had considered him averse to such empathy and consideration. It struck home suddenly, how wrong I had been all this time about the man in front of me. I had never doubted his ability to lead, to formulate strategies and fight. But I had seriously thought him incapable of reaching beyond his own domain. "So was this what kept you from visiting?" I asked Illidan.

"Yes, I apologise. I knew however, you would be more than well looked after," he looked at Sarah, his amber eyes warming, then he looked back at me. Another wash of guilt. I had suspected Sarah of being behind the former demon hunter's absence. It seemed I had an enormous amount of study ahead of me in recognising the emotions of all living beings.

I felt the soft caress of Sarah's hand upon mine and I read understanding in her eyes.

The Nightsaber suddenly wriggled then jumped out from my arms. She curled around Illidan's legs as we approached the door to their home. "She is hungry," he explained. "Please go inside, I will only be a moment or two." Illidan disappeared around the side of the building again, followed eagerly by the young cub.

Arcaena laughed. "I remember following him like that around the Black Temple, many years ago now."

"Arcaena!" Sarah laughed.

"Well, it's true," the Night Elf smirked. "Anyway, come in, welcome to our home all of you." She cooed as Sarah passed her, Ocel still sleeping in his sling.

As suspected from the outside view, the house was near palatial with furnishings in rich purples, reds and greens, enhanced by the pale lilac and soft grey stone tiles.

Beautiful statues depicting elven figures from ancient times sat on pillared pedestals along the foyer. A winding staircase led up to the next level but we passed under it towards an opulent reception room. Again, the vibrant colour scheme was abundantly punctuated with the soft pastels of the roses and their glossy foliage.

Large paintings depicting landscapes of an ancient, unspoiled Kalimdor graced the walls. The serenity and majesty of the once enormous continent were beautifully illustrated.

Arcaena invited us to sit then clapping her hands, a young girl appeared. Our hostess whispered to her and then the girl ran off to another room. "Just getting some refreshments," Arcaena explained as she seated herself opposite.

Whether or not my expression conveyed surprise  I am unsure but Arcaena laughed. "She is the daughter of friends of ours and she offered her services in helping running this..." her eyes roamed around the room, "...place." She concluded.

Her tone suggested she was not altogether comfortable in such lavish surroundings. "Is this not to your liking?" I asked. My question awarded me a little reprimanding nudge from Sarah.

Arcaena noticed. "Oh, do not scold him, Sarah. To be honest it is far too grand for my liking. I feel out of place. Illidan knows how I feel."

Ocel stirred and Arcaena was immediately on her feet. "Oh, may I? Or is he needing to be fed?"

"He won't need feeding for a while yet," Sarah said as she unclipped the sling and handed over a still sleepy Ocel to Arcaena.

The Night Elf looked down on him with shining eyes and a broad smile. "I used to see him like Sarah, but as his eyes change, I now definitely see him more like you, Khadgar."

My inner peacock was filled with pride again. Such a simple yet genuine statement had me beaming like a mad gorloc. On catching Sarah's look I lowered my head and tried to formulate my facial muscles into a more normal expression. She was not disapproving by any means, she simply let me know I was looking a bit gormless.

"Apologies," Illidan's voice entered the room. "That is the beasts fed, now you have my full attention."

"Beasts? You have more?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I have erm... found some long forgotten memories recently, and the love of the sabers was one of them. Beautiful creatures."

"What do you do with them? Are you selling them?"

"Oh, no. I have rescued many that were orphaned or injured from the Legion attacks and I am simply ensuring they are in good health before I release them to the wild again."

That said he sat down. I found myself at a slight loss for what to say. There was so much I needed to say, but knowing where to start was eluding me.

"Why don't you two go catch up while Arcaena and I see to Ocel," Sarah suggested.

Excellent idea as always. It may indeed have been easier for me to speak with him if we were alone. Illidan nodded in agreement and he then led the way out into another courtyard.

On our way, we met the young girl who Arcaena had sent to get some refreshments. Illidan grabbed a couple of goblets and a bottle of wine, apologising that she would need to replenish her tray for Arcaena. The girl smiled and said it was not a problem.

"Early for wine is it not?" I asked him.

He laughed softly. "It is never too early for such a wondrous vintage." He stopped beside some seating, draped in soft throws next to a raised flower bed. A sculpted stone structure served as a small table for our drinks. We chinked our goblets and took a sip. It was sublime.

"A very fine vintage indeed," I commented. "I must add it to my cellar."

"I have ample, you will take some with you."

"Thank you." We sipped again. A moment or two passed before I could utter the words I needed to say. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me. And for Sarah, of course."

Illidan's amber eyes flared slightly and he smiled. "It was the least I could do, my friend."

"But I was so... well,  _dreadful_..."

"You were merely influenced by a force more powerful than most and you were not the only one. That aside, however, I owed you. You and Sarah, for bringing me back and reuniting me with my wife and my Ill..." He stopped; a wan smile stretched his lips.

It offered me the opportunity to ask what I was curious about. "How does it feel, Illidan? To be as you once were, without the demons, the fel?"

The Night Elf looked up and surveyed his surroundings, gathering his thoughts before answering. "Odd, sometimes; almost as if I am... incomplete. By being purged of those abnormalities, those scars and my suffering, I have somehow... lost myself."

He glanced at me. He smiled in his inimitable way. "And there are other times, like now when I am sitting with a good friend that I count my blessings. I am most grateful that Sarah had the Naaru take a different route to my ending from what I had opted for."

I sighed with relief. I had feared that her intervention in this had perhaps been a grave error of judgement.

He sipped more wine, eyeing me over the rim of his goblet. "Oh, make no mistake, Khadgar, I miss the notoriety, the power, the leading of an army in possession of such tremendous ability and prowess. I lived that life for a very long time. I evolved in more ways than merely physical. I  _became_  the demon."

"But your heart was true, Illidan. You still fought the Legion, did everything in your power to preserve our world."

Again his eyes scanned the courtyard and he took time before answering. "Yes. But, there was an enormous cost in doing so."

He obviously needed an outlet and I believe that was what I was for him at that moment. "War always has its cost, Illidan."

He scoffed. "Yes, but usually at the hand of the enemy. Not by the one who others trust to defend them."

"You are talking about Ravencrest. That was a very long time ago indeed..."

"And it makes it no less painful!" He stood abruptly. "I stole those lives. I ended them to empower me! Innocent people who offered their services, their powers to aid in the battle. And I robbed them of their glory."

I put down my goblet. There was an insurmountable amount of inner torment behind those amber eyes. I myself had lost lives who fought beside me; lives which I could have saved, but didn't. Although I did not actively steal their last breaths, I nonetheless had an inkling of what he was going through.

"Illidan, it is a burden all leaders and generals must bear. We must, however, learn from it and become stronger. Let not our past destroy our future. We have all done things we regret, things we could have prevented. What seemed solid reasoning at the time drove us to allow events to develop as they did. But, we are still here, still revered, still powerful and we are better men than once we were."

The Elf turned those molten eyes upon me. After a few moments, they calmed. "I hope I am, Khadgar."

I lifted the bottle of wine and replenished our goblets. Then raising mine I said, "To being better men."

He smiled and raised his also. "And to good friends."

We drank deeply. More relaxed, we sat down again. I told him then of what Modera and Kalecgos had informed me of, the unrest in Lordaeron. He listened carefully, occasionally nodding his understanding. I asked if he would join with me in planning how best to defend our peoples.

"I will help all I can, I can fight there is no doubt. But I admit, without an army, I am going to go into this with an infinitely divergent strategy. One of which I am not entirely sure how to accomplish successfully."

I had given this some quiet consideration before coming to Suramar and now it was the time to see if Illidan would find my sagacious suggestion prudent. "You were an accomplished sorcerer before you became a demon hunter and, I believe, also a skilled mage, at least in some areas."

He nodded.

I continued. "The Alliance seems sorely lacking in a skilled army specialising in the art of arcane. Indeed that is the case in most prestidigitation, out with my own specialities. I put it to you, therefore, that you build a new army. Your leadership qualities and abilities are irrefutable. The people have bore witness to Illidan Stormrage and his skills in very recent times."

He stared at me, somewhat surprised and yet I could sense the cogs were in motion behind those eyes. "And where am I to draw these individuals from?" He asked.

I grinned as I considered a very relieved bartender in the Mage District. "I would think the basement at The Slaughtered Lamb in Stormwind might be a good place to start? There must be many more such covens dotted around and I think those of that persuasion will be more than capable of letting you know where to find them."

His fangs were clearly on display as he laughed wholeheartedly. "Why Archmage Khadgar, there is indeed a politician in you; you have a devious side."

I laughed with him. "Ah, but only with the best intentions."

We clanked goblets again and with surprising synchronicity, we toasted, "To Best Intentions."

 

 


	23. Duplicity

 

Best laid plans. As it turned out, we spent longer in Suramar than intended. Not just due to the good company and camaraderie but also because of news which Illidan presented. It perhaps explained that which Modera and Kalecgos had made known to me. And it was worrying, indeed.

Listening to the night elf, Sarah and I shared a look. One which said so much. I knew with undeniable certainty that as Illidan revealed what had been happening, Sarah was already contemplating her role in that of which he spoke. I also knew there was no possibility that I could - nor would - stop her from doing what we  _all_ were destined to do. Fight for what we believed in.

As we dined with our hosts and learned of certain events, conspiracies formed in abundance. Some things did not add up, however.

He told us it had been rumoured that Warchief Sylvanas had wanted to wage war on the Alliance at the gates of Stormwind after finding her sister Vereesa critically injured at Teldrassil. More whispers yet had revealed that High Overlord Saurfang had somehow managed to talk her out of attacking the city.

"But what happened? Who would benefit from harming Vereesa for a start? What could they possibly gain?" I asked.

" _Who_ indeed?" Illidan voiced. "That is the main question here."

"Perhaps she was cajoled and made a target to induce Sylvanas' revenge on Stormwind; on the Alliance." Sarah offered.

"Yes, that's a feasible explanation, but what would they have used to entice her?" I enquired. "And again,  _who_  benefits?"

"I believe the Great Tree itself was the reason Veressa was in Teldrassil," Arcaena answered.

Illidan nodded, evidently understanding her train of thought. Sarah and I stared askance at each other before turning questioning eyes to our hosts.

" _Was_?" I braved. "Why do I sense pending doom in that one little word?"

"Because it has been destroyed!" Illidan said as he stood abruptly. "Burned, desecrated!" He drained his glass and thrust it in front of Arcaena. She clucked her tongue in mock annoyance and snatched the glass from his hand. I could not help but notice the small curve of his mouth as he glanced down at her. It was a deeply serious moment and yet still, the night elves did not lose sight of their unity.

"But why? And what of Darnassus? The people?" Sarah breathed as she reached for my hand, curling her fingers tightly around mine. We had friends in the elven city and I knew her thoughts had run to them.

Illidan's eyes flashed, anger and sorrow abundant. "The city has been crippled, it lies in ruin. Fortunately, many escaped but the casualties are still vast. I know you are thinking of Umrii and Lhadral. They and their family are safe though."

I could feel Sarah relax slightly on hearing they were alive, but concern was still etched upon her face.

Acraena replenished our drinks before proceeding. "When Teldrassil was first planted, the Archdruid Fandral Staghelm overlooked having the tree blessed. The roots buried deep in the earth and very quickly indeed. It is believed The Old Gods had hoped for such a misjudgement. The error would empower them with a way to rise from the depths of Azeroth and rule over us whenever they deemed the time was right."

"The Old Gods?" Sarah asked. Her eyes were wide. "They could emerge?"

Arcaena grinned, although the expression was not one with her usual confident air. "Perhaps. All we do know is that and the tree became corrupted not only by the Emerald Nightmare but its limbs absorbed crystalised titan blood, a substance known as Azerite."

I had vaguely heard of this Azerite before, but it was in a most obscure script. Both Arcaena and Illidan gave us a brief history lesson which passed far beyond the times of the High Elves to the Titans and the Old Gods. They also furnished us with the knowledge that Azerite would be a valuable commodity; one which could bring with it an unfathomable power linked to the Old Gods. It was clear if this commodity was farmed and fell into the wrong hands it could also lead to mass destruction.

Many more heads were required to unravel this mystery. Was Vereesa at Teldrassil to stop its destruction or start it? The same could be said of Sylvanas. Perhaps on hearing her sister lay wounded she wrought destruction on the Night Elf city and ultimately the Great Tree of Teldrassil. Yet...

"It still does not make sense," I offered. All eyes turned to me. I inched forward on the sofa. "Why would Sylvanas aim to start a war by burning Teldrassil - a continent so far away from where Lordaeron sits? Undercity is her domain after all and south of it lies Stormwind. A target rumoured to have been her true objective."

"To raze something like Teldrassil also would take immense firepower. Could she afford such arms and weaponry to be deployed so far away?" Sarah injected.

Ocel became restless and Sarah excused herself to feed and change him. Arcaena took her through to a room for privacy.

Once they had vacated the room, Illidan spoke with me some more. "A valid point Khadgar; that which Sarah made."

I put down my glass and rose to cross the room. I stared out of the large window which offered a view of the landscaped gardens. It was beautiful there, in Suramar. Its mystical serenity was almost like a drug. "Yes," I breathed. "But still, we are fumbling for answers. I will need to go to Varian."

The night elf joined me at the window. "There is an embassy being set up in Stormwind, Khadgar, where all heads of Alliance state will convene. A rather unexpected attendee will be present -  _possibly_."

"And who might that be?"

"Katherine Proudmore."

My breath caught in my throat. That was a name I had not heard in a very long while. Jaina's mother. And with her came a deluge of unbidden memories. Kul Tiras, home to the Proudmores.

And to me.

I swallowed. "I doubt she will attend," I said tightly. "Most likely Jaina will be there in her stead."

Illidan huffed. "I have heard there is animosity between mother and daughter."

"I see." I replied.

He grunted but said nothing more on the subject. I was strangely grateful for his silence. But, he did offer some other conjecture. "The old feuds never leave us, do they, Khadgar?"

I merely shook my head. "I worry about Anduin however. He is a resilient and forward-thinking young man, but he is inexperienced on the battlefield. I must know what Varian is thinking of allowing him to lead the fight in Lordaeron."

"It is just unrest at the moment, a building of forces by all accounts in preparation for what may well be bloody and costly indeed."

I shook my head, frustration, a predominant factor permeating my thoughts. "It seems so much has happened in such a short span of time."

"Does it?"

I looked at him, trying to fathom his meaning. His amber eyes flared as he locked with my gaze. "Perhaps we were merely pawns, sent against the Legion and the Void so other forces could work behind the scenes unhindered."

I grinned, not exactly encouraged by such a hypothesis. "Do you no longer believe it was the prophecy which had you rise again, Illidan."

The night elf flexed, pulling himself taut and straight, towering over me. "Prophecy is only the dreams and wishes of cognizant beings. Fairy stories, Khadgar! It just so happens if we believe in them enough, we strive to make those prophecies a reality and in so doing strengthen the entire concept."

"The duplicity of said beings."

"Exactly, my friend. So now we must seek out a new  _Betrayer_ , if you wish to give it a name." His fangs glinted as the smile crept over his mouth.

"So - Lordaeron will be the result of these... incidents?" I said. It was not really a question, it was more resignation to the threat of pending war - yet again.

"So it would seem. Horde against Alliance once more," Illidan agreed. "I fear your efforts for amnesty between the factions is destined to fail for all time, Khadgar. Your intentions are honourable, but some of the leaders I'm afraid are anything but."

It was a hard, but honest truth. I remained silent for a few minutes, breathing in the fragrance of the Night Elf's garden of roses. "Fancy a trip to Stormwind, Illidan?"

This time he guffawed. "Kill two birds with one stone? No pun intended, no offence meant."

I grinned. "None taken."

"The seat of Wrynn has yet to be introduced to the new me and also have the pleasure of discovering that you still breathe!" He laughed lightly.

I had to admit, it did strike me as rather funny. The thought of the two of us wandering into the Keep and being halted by the guards under suspicion of a being a threat to the monarchy was highly amusing.

"We will have to wait for Sarah." I said rocking back and forth on my heels.

"And Arcaena," he replied with a sideways look, folding his arms across his chest.

"Of course."

The Night Elf rolled his shoulders. "Unless we try..."

We both shook our heads and looked at each other. "No," we voiced simultaneously then laughed.

 

We had no choice but to visit Gwen and Erik with a request that they watch over Ocel while we looked for an audience with Varian.

The look of shock was followed quickly by joy at my "resurrection" but regrettably, I explained we did not have time for a proper reunion. Things needed to be dealt with but afterwards, hopefully, we would have a little time to catch up. Our friends, as expected, were more than understanding.

The new Embassy was situated in the grounds west of Stormwind Keep on the lake's edge. I had little concept of what to expect but in a bid to reduce the chance of detainment, I portalled us to the Wollerton Stead nearby.

I grinned as a somewhat fuzzy memory of a newspaper article about Wollerton's competitor, Brackwell's Pumpkins, came to mind. I wondered if Robby Flay's Pumpkin Pancakes were still in demand.

In this instance Sarah deemed it prudent for me to don my hood; I agreed. She worked on the premise that she was well enough known now to be trusted and that should she arrive with guests, they would not be under suspicion. Still, she thought for me to walk in boldly with no warning, a few individuals may think they were seeing a ghost and the ruckus could attract a fair bit of unwanted attention.

As for Illidan and Arcaena, they were merely Night Elves, they could theoretically be anyone. Though, I did have to question the validity of that train of thought considering the unusual colour of Illidan's eyes. Nonetheless, the elves followed us, without disguise, into the encampment which represented the designated area for the new-founded Embassy.

I noted a few heads turned as we progressed, but most nodded a warm greeting to Sarah and a hesitant one to us then went about their business.

It was all still very new. Construction continued, labourers were busy erecting various huts around the perimeter of the camp. These looked as if they would be places to offer services and trade goods. Others would loan shelter and possibly food going by both the small bunks being made up the aromas drifting out across our path.

Horses were tethered outside the largest building which naturally I assumed was the main Embassy. They whinnied and flicked their tails and manes, keeping the ever-present flies on the wing. A young boy ran about with a wheelbarrow and shovel keeping the vicinity near the entrance free of equine deposits.

The building itself was relatively understated. Then again I supposed, it was early days and if the looming battle was going to be anything like I imagined, then even employing those of us who could construct whole cities through magic would not be a prudent alternative to the setting up of embassies and other such buildings. Our powers were going to be needed elsewhere.

This war was going to be of the old school. We would in effect, be pitted against equally powerful individuals, all trained in the ways our own people were. On one hand, it was strangely refreshing to be up against such a "like-for-like" enemy but on the other, it was more unsettling. This time it would feel like we were killing our own even although we were opposing factions; for we were, nevertheless, all Azerothians.

With a somewhat heavy heart, we entered the Embassy. Some heads turned as we crossed the threshold.

I noted that everyone looked first at Sarah, nodded, then their eyes drifted over us. It was the most bizarre feeling I must admit. From the depths of my hood, I looked at familiar faces, each of them staring back in varying degrees of interest or indifference.

As I read their expressions, it became clear to me that these individuals were battle-weary, yet their resolve was nothing short of admirable. These were my people, my extended family as it were. I also considered some of those Horde-side in the same way.

It was with a lugubrious philosophy that I walked further into the large room, still feeling many eyes fastened to my person. Sarah glanced at me over her shoulder. I sensed she felt it too - that feeling that we were never truly free from constant warring; the perpetual need to prepare for the next battle, the next threat to our homes and families. A rush of melancholy washed over me.

"Don't!" I heard her whisper to me.

"What?"

"Feel guilty for my being here. With you."

I was momentarily stunned that she had read me so accurately.

"I would not want to be anywhere else," she breathed before turning to face Varian who stood at the rear of the room. It took all I had not to brush fingers with her, but I could not risk even a small show of affection in such a public setting.

Beside him, Genn Greymane stood with arms folded over his chest. He was listening to whatever Varian was saying, and nodding his head accordingly. My eyes scanned the area near them. No sign of Anduin. Was he already posted in Lordaeron, I wondered. Then a small laugh and some chatter from the recess to the left of Varian informed me he was still in Stormwind. I was relieved.

Genn's eyes locked on Sarah as she neared the podium where he and Varian stood. He grunted and with a jut of his chin, indicated to Varian that someone approached.

"Illidan!" I heard a female voice from behind us. I turned slowly and saw Modera with Kalecgos and Vargoth standing close by. Several heads turned to look at the individual my colleague had addressed. Some gasps were heard along with mutterings of disbelief. Inwardly I groaned.

Illidan, I noted, did so audibly. Under different circumstances, his discomfort would have been comical, but there and then I felt his awkwardness as plainly as if it were my own. Glancing back at the Archmage I saw embarrassment creep up her face and then saw it followed by surprise as she locked eyes with me. Whether she was simply affronted by her own outburst or she read the warning on my face I know not, but she stepped back and lowered her head.

Turning back to Varian, I was a little dismayed to see the exchange had not gone unnoticed. He turned to face us squarely and after his eyes quickly scanned myself and our night elf friends he fixed his stare on Sarah.

"Your Majesty," Sarah offered with a small bow.

I saw Varian's mouth twitch. "Formalities?" he quizzed. "Do not attempt to try to fool me. What is going on here, Sarah."

His tone was neither accusatory nor condescending, but nonetheless, it was time for me to step in. "It is not Sarah's doing," I said quietly.

The King's eyes focused on me. I watched as the recognition flooded his face. I lowered my hood. More gasps resounded around the room. A few moments of disbelieving silence passed between us, then Varian ordered the doors to the Embassy closed and bolted. He took a tentative step towards me. Genn remained where he was, the lupine features rippling beneath his human face, eyes glowing gold.

"I should have known," Varian said, his hand reaching for mine. His mouth split into a broad smile. "Old friend! You have come back to us." He shook my hand warmly, sincerely.

I was momentarily surprised by his readiness to accept that I had returned for the dead.

The king looked at Sarah and me then he looked past us at Illidan and Arcaena. He was noticeably stunned yet he did not seem to disbelieve what he saw. "There is obviously much to explain," he said, still smiling. "But, I'm afraid it will have to wait because..."

"I agree," I injected. "And I have heard what has been happening. I was hoping also to speak in private."

"Khadgar?" Prince Anduin beamed from the recess. "Is it really you?" He came forward and he too grabbed my hand to greet me.

"Yes, Anduin," I smiled at the Prince. The young noble's eyes moved to Sarah. I could read his unspoken question and I responded accordingly. "Sarah did not know until recently either." The Prince's blue eyes shone as if he were pleased by the answer.

I looked at Sarah and was surprised to see her attention drawn to the recess from where Anduin had emerged. I followed her gaze.

Two red eyes peered out from the shadows. Anduin glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, you have not met officially, of course, forgive me." He gestured towards the recess, beckoning whoever was in the shadows to make themselves known.

A swarthy skinned individual came into the light. He was a young man a few years older than Anduin. The red eyes framed within a handsome face were set by high cheekbones and a sharp angular jaw. It was clear he was not of our people. Foreign did not quite hit the mark neither, but I had a good inkling who this individual was based on stories our young Prince had conveyed from his time in Pandaria.

Dressed in attire which could only be indicative of nobility, the man moved forward, his strides oozing confidence as he came to a stop next to Anduin. I chanced a sideways glance at Sarah. She looked almost hypnotised by this new appearance.

"This is Wrathion, The Black Prince as he is known, and a good friend of mine," Anduin introduced him.

I offered the young man a customary bow, he inclined his head in response. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," I said. "I have heard much about you from Prince Anduin."

"Hmm," was the verbal response from Wrathion. "All good, I do hope."

"Indeed." I answered.

Anduin informed his friend of our names and after quietly confirming with me, introduced Illidan and Arcaena also. The Black Prince looked at each of us in turn but his eyes settled on Sarah.

I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn I saw a hint of a flare from beneath her blouse. She was still staring at the young man, her expression difficult to read.

He held out his hand to her; his nails unusually long and well manicured, they adorned elegant, slender fingers. I watched as Sarah accepted his hand. He raised hers to his mouth and pausing long enough to smile, he then brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Charmed," he said. Then he released her hand but not her gaze. A few excruciating moments passed before Sarah, with a slight shake of her head lowered her eyes but remained silent.

"We shall have more time for pleasantries later," Varian intervened. "For now, I think it would be wise for us to return to the Keep, Khadgar. As you say, we need to talk."

I was oddly relieved as I found myself trying to come to terms with what had just passed between Sarah and Wrathion.

Varian ordered an escort. I suggested Modera and my other colleagues attend also, to which Varian agreed. They moved forward to join us at which point Wrathion expressed an interest.

"Ah," he said, eyes locked on Kalecgos. "I am most surprised to see your breed."

Kalecgos stiffened. "My  _breed_ , as you call it, is no more a part of me."

I had never heard such intonation from Kalecgos before. There was a hint of loathing mixed with deep regret in his voice.

Varian moved forward breaking the visual contact between Wrathion and Kalecgos and we all turned and followed; all except Anduin and his friend.

The King and Genn walked ahead of us, flanked by the Royal Guard. It was not far to the Keep and to be honest I was glad of the fresh air.

"What just happened in there?" I whispered to Sarah.

I heard her swallow. "Something you are not going to like," she answered. There was a tremor in her voice.

"No kidding," I responded rather grumpily, I admit.

Whether she sensed something in my tone or not I am unsure, but her hand curled around mine, a sign of reassurance. Instantly, I felt foolish. Her gesture made it plain to me what my thoughts had been. Her explanation, however, was most unexpected.

"I have a little knowledge of Wrathion from when I played Warcraft." She said. Her fingers tightened around mine.

"Go on," I encouraged, checking to see if others could hear our conversation - all seemed oblivious.

"I do not have time to go into detail, but I remember he wanted a unified Azeroth to fight the Burning Legion."

"Well, that is good. It is what I had hoped for myself."

"Yes, my love, but, he was not amused when Varian declared there should be a new Warchief of the Horde when Garrosh was defeated. He had hoped for Varian to force the Horde to join with the Alliance and become a unified faction."

I was still unsure where she was going with this train of thought. "Your point is?"

"I questioned Sylvanas' having enough troops to destroy Teldrassil and then return to these shores to either wage war on us here or in Lordaeron."

"I remember, yes. Illidan thought your point was valid too."

She nodded and swallowed once more before continuing. "What if Wrathion still wants a unified force?"

We were nearing the Keep steps. We had to finish this conversation soon so we could open discussions with the King. I was, however, deeply intrigued. "That seems unlikely now, considering."

"Yes, but his methodology could be what has sparked this pending war."

"What are you saying?"

"He is a black drake Khadgar, like his father Deathwing was. Allegedly uncorrupted by the Old Gods, Wrathion nonetheless may have an unscrupulous strategy to achieve that which he desires. Perhaps it was he who set Teldrassil aflame. A dragon has that kind of firepower does he not? Maybe he lured Veressa. By each side thinking the other was to blame, the Horde and Alliance would be forced into battle once more. I wonder if  _he_ has set the wheels in motion because he wants us to defeat the Horde."

Her hypothesis was highly feasible but had just added yet another dilemma to an already hideous predicament.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: And here ends A Raven's Tale. I admit the ending is a tad different to my original plan, but with the pending release of Battle for Azeroth later this year, I wanted to hint at a conspiracy theory which I just love. It may end up being totally wrong, but I think out of all those I have read and considered myself, this was the most interesting one.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed the journey in the Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles and I thank you for having taken the time to read them. I am uncertain at this time when, or even if I will pen more stories about them. But at least I left it open so that should I return I have somewhere to pick up from.
> 
> As for now, I will be writing the story about Sauren Nightflame, the leader of the Crimson Blade from Rogue Firefury. Perhaps you may wish to join me there?
> 
> Thank you again.


End file.
